We didn't, did we?
by Sigma Creations
Summary: When Ruth wakes up in Harry's bed after the office Christmas party is it a disaster, a cause for celebration or a blessing in disguise? AU story with characters from season 8, loosely following the plot from that series, but mostly containing Christmas fluff with a little angst thrown in for good measure. Reviews are always appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

_Today, 23rd December, 7 am_

The incessant beeping would not stop. It stabbed at his aching head with an insistence that could not be ignored, and he groaned as he fought to hold onto the blissful dream that was rapidly dissolving as he was forced into wakefulness. His hand reached out toward the bedside table to locate his phone and turn off the bloody alarm. He felt around, but the moment his hand closed over it, someone shifted beside him and an arm collided sharply with his face. He yelped in pain and surprise, whipping his head around toward the intruder and opening his eyes for the first time. His breath caught in his chest as his gaze fell on a pair of very familiar, blue eyes that were staring at him in alarm. _Oh shag_, he thought.

* * *

_Three days earlier, 10 am_

"So, who do you have to get a present for?" Lucas asked as he sat on the edge of her desk.

"You know the rules, Lucas. I'm not telling you," Ros replied without looking up.

"Is it me?" he grinned.

"There is a twenty-five per cent chance that it is you."

"Well, just in case, I thought I'd let you know that a bottle of Vodka would be very much appreciated."

"I know, Lucas. You already informed us all of that fact the moment we finished drawing names out of the hat."

Lucas shrugged and said, "Doesn't hurt to double check." He glanced around the Grid and then added, "I envy the person who got me or Harry. All they need to get is a bottle of booze." His eyes drifted over to Harry's office and caught a glimpse of him staring longingly through his window at Ruth's desk despite the fact that it was empty. "I hope it's Ruth who got him. She's the only one who can give him what he really wants."

Ros finally raised her eyes from the report on her table and looked at Lucas and then at Harry. "Never going to happen, Lucas. Ruth will never agree."

"Shame really. It would be one hell of a Christmas present for him."

* * *

_Today, 23rd December, 7:05 am_

He'd dreamed of this moment so many times, wished for it so desperately, and yet he had never once imagined that she would be looking at him like that, with eyes full of panic and fear. He blinked slowly to hide the pain that he was sure would be clearly visible in his gaze. He opened his eyes again. Try as he might, he couldn't remember how they ended up here, like this. They must have been really pissed last night.

"Hi," he said eventually.

"Harry?" she whispered in alarm.

He looked around him. They were in his bedroom, in his bed. He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed at the stubble on his chin before bringing it up to pinch the bridge of his nose. _Fuck_, he thought.

"Did we...? We didn't, did we?" she stammered eventually.

So she couldn't remember either then. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain slashing through his heart at the panic in her voice. Secretly he'd always hoped that, if they ever found themselves in this position, it would bring them together like nothing else had. Making love would be a way past the awkwardness that always seemed to plague the pair of them. Perhaps that would have been true if either of them could remember anything. It occurred to him suddenly that, given the state of intoxication they must have been under to have no recollection of how they got to his house, let alone into his bed together, it was more than likely that nothing _had_ happened. After all, he was approaching sixty, was out of shape and overweight, and he had serious doubts that he would have been able to perform under the circumstances. Without thinking much about it, he lifted the covers and peered under them to ascertain his state of undress.

"_Harry!_" she exclaimed causing his head to turn toward her sharply.

"Sorry," he apologised quickly, closing his eyes, but not fast enough to avoid getting a tantalizing glimpse of cream coloured flesh. She was naked then, or at least her top half was. He cleared his throat and tried to explain, "I was just trying to ascertain how much clothing I am wearing."

There was a brief silence and then she asked tentatively, "And how much _are_ you wearing?"

"Not much," he admitted.

"No. Neither am I."

He swallowed and willed his body not to react to that statement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the encouraging reviews. I'm glad people are enjoying the premise of the story. My plan is to publish a chapter every day until Christmas, so we'll see if I can manage. I hope you continue to enjoy. SC x**_  
_

* * *

_Yesterday, 5 pm_

"Presents!" Tariq grinned as they all gathered in the briefing room.

"Presents," Harry repeated in resignation, stating at the small pile of five gifts wrapped in festive paper that was currently occupying the spot right in front of him. "I'll hand them out then, shall I?" Tariq nodded eagerly and Harry stifled a sigh as he picked up the first one and read the tag. "Ros," he said and pushed it toward her.

Everyone watched as she ripped the gold paper off the gift and opened the box. Inside was a brown Teddy-bear dressed in a faux-leather, one piece, black outfit. Ros picked it up and placed it on the table, raising one eyebrow as she scanned the group to guess who had given her the gift. Everyone was grinning at her; Ros and a Teddy-bear, now _that_ was absurd_._

Tariq was studying it intently with unmasked curiosity, and Ruth looked enamoured with the thing, so she ruled them out. That left Lucas and Harry and neither of them was giving anything away. Reaching over she pressed the bear's hand on the spot where it said 'Press here' and it began to move its hips as Elvis Presley sang 'I wanna be your Teddy-bear'. She was so surprised by this that she almost missed Harry's eyebrows raising slightly in astonishment. It had to be Lucas then.

Moments later the entire group was laughing at the dancing bear, and it occurred to several of them that this was the first time in a while that they had all shared a moment of mirth. Eventually the bear's dance ended and everyone settled back down.

"Thank you, Lucas," Ros smiled. "Though I sincerely hope that you are not trying to imply anything with that song."

"I just couldn't resist," he grinned. "I knew it would elicit a smile even from you, Ros. Happy Christmas."

* * *

_Today, 23rd December, 7:15 am_

The silence stretched on for a few more minutes.

"So," Ruth eventually ventured, "do you...? I mean, I don't..." She sighed.

"Regretfully, no," Harry replied, somehow understanding what she was trying to ask.

She blushed and turned away from him, rolling onto her back.

He rubbed his face one more time, and needing to put some physical distance between them, he sat up suddenly, swinging his feet onto the floor. His sudden movement to an upright position caused his head to spin as his headache worsened into a sharp throbbing pain. Leaning over, he put his head in his hands as he fought off the nausea that overwhelmed him. Soon he realized that he wasn't winning this battle, so he pushed himself upright and staggered to the bathroom, managing to mumble a quiet, "Excuse me," as he left the room. Luckily he got to the toilet just before the contents of his rather empty stomach reappeared.

He slid to the floor and rested his back against the bath tub as he cradled his head in his hands. He hadn't reached such a point of intoxication in years. In fact, the last time he felt so bad in the morning had been in hospital after a particularly nasty drug he'd been given and... Wait a minute! He sat up straight and stated at the wall in front of him as his hands dropped to his sides. Surely it wasn't possible. Could someone have drugged him? But how? And for what purpose? And where? He was fine before the party last night. Could someone have drugged him at an MI-5 office party? Get a grip, Harry, he told himself. There must be some other explanation. Maybe some of the booze was off. He remembered starting the evening with beer and then moving on to whiskey and... Vodka? Did he really drink Vodka? That explained it then. In his experience, you couldn't trust anything Russian, not even a drink. What in heaven's name had possessed him to do so?... He sighed. Ruth...of course...always.

He pushed himself up, and stripping off his underwear and the single sock that he was wearing, he got into the shower.

* * *

_Yesterday, 10 pm_

"Want to dance, Ros?"

"No, thank you, Lucas."

He shrugged and walked over to Ruth.

"May I have this dance, Ruth?"

"Oh! I..um.. thank you, but I don't want to dance, Lucas. I'm sorry."

"Haven't drunk enough yet?" he grinned.

"No," she smiled. "Nowhere near enough."

"Let me get you another drink then. Cider, is it?"

"Yes, I mean no. No, thank you."

He shrugged and moved toward the bar, returning shortly with a pint of cider for her.

"Lucas, are you trying to get me drunk?"

"No, just tipsy enough to dance with me. I already asked Ros and she turned me down. I'm sure my ego won't be able to cope with all the members of my team rejecting me in one night."

"Two is not the same as all, Lucas."

He smiled and called over to Tariq, "Oi, Tariq. Want to dance with me?"

"Are you pissed, Mate?!" Tariq replied in astonishment.

"See? No one wants me."

Ruth laughed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Today, 23rd December, 7:30 am_

How did she get herself in this position? In bed with Harry of all people. Sodding Lucas and his bloody cider. How much had she had to drink anyway? She'd started with half a pint of cider and then Lucas had bought her two pints. Then Max from C section had joined them and bought her another - one? two? more than that? - She couldn't remember. _Fuck_, she thought. They'd been dancing and singing – karaoke? - with Max and Lucas... and Harry? She'd been dancing with Harry, right? This was the part where the evening got very blurry. The inside of a cab with... who? Harry?... no, Ros. She was pretty confident that Ros had offered to take her home. So how did she get here, in Harry's bed? And what had happened? Surely if they had both been that drunk, nothing _could_ have happened. A stab of disappointment surprised her. The thought of finally spending a night in Harry's bed and nothing happening between them hurt in a way she had not expected.

The door of the bathroom opened, interrupting her analysis of that particular feeling. He stood in the doorway a little uncertainly.

"Sorry, Ruth," he murmured. "I forgot to grab some clean clothes."

"It's okay, Harry," she replied quietly and averted her eyes when she realized she'd been staring at his towel clad body.

He cleared his throat. "The bathroom's free, if you'd like a shower. I put out a clean towel."

"Thank you. That would be nice."

"Right then."

A pause.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could... you know... turn around?"

"Oh, yes, sorry."

He moved over to the wardrobe and opened it to find a clean shirt and suit, turning his back toward her.

* * *

_Yesterday, 11 pm_

"Hi, Ruth," he smiled.

"Hello. Max, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right," he grinned. She remembered his name. "Can I get you a drink?"

"I haven't finished this one yet."

"Oh, right. Silly of me." A pause. "Would you like to dance?"

"Um... okay."

"Great."

On the other side of the room, Harry asked Ros, "Who's that?"

"Max Whitmore, new analyst to section C, transferred from GCHQ about a month ago."

"I see."

Ros watched as Harry took another large gulp of his whiskey. She still couldn't work out what he saw in her. However, he was clearly in love with her. It couldn't be a mere physical thing if it had lasted this long, and even though Harry never liked to loose, she couldn't imagine that he was still interested in her just for the triumph of possessing her, the one that got away.

"Another drink, Harry?"

"Yes... Make it a double."

She walked over to the bar and ordered the drinks.

"Hi, Ros. How's it going?" Lucas grinned.

"I can't stand it any more," Ros declared.

"What?" Lucas replied, turning to her in surprise.

"Those two," she nodded at Ruth and Harry. "I've had enough."

"Enough?" Lucas smirked. "_You've_ had enough? Imagine how they feel!"

"Exactly!" Ros smiled triumphantly. "Right. It's Christmas and I'm going to give them a present they'll never forget."

"Oh, no, Ros," Lucas shook his head. "Don't meddle in other people's lives. It's not a good plan."

"Are you _serious_?" Ros hissed. "Lucas, we're spooks. That's what we do. Besides, if I hadn't meddled before, perhaps they would have sorted this out by themselves already."

"What do you mean?" Lucas frowned.

Ros shook her head. "I've got a plan and you're going to help me."

"I don't like the sound of that," Lucas mumbled, but raised his hands up in surrender when Ros glared at him. He listened to her plan and his eyes widened in horror and fear. He tried to talk her out of it and refuse to help, but in the end he gave in. Perhaps he'd had a little too much to drink at this stage. Perhaps they all had.

* * *

_Today, 23rd December, 7:50 am_

She came out of the bathroom cautiously, afraid that Harry might still be in the room. Luckily it was empty. Another stab of disappointment caught her off guard. Shaking her head at her unexpected reaction, she moved into the room and looked around for the first time. The bed was made and her clothes were neatly folded on top of it. She swallowed as she spied her underwear on top, unable to get past the fact that Harry had put them there. Harry had touched them and... she felt dizzy all of a sudden, and taking two steps over to the bed, she sat down heavily on the edge. She closed her eyes to fight off the nausea and was assaulted by a vivid feeling of his large, warm hands gliding over her skin, up under her top, her bra loosening as they approached her aching breasts, a moan of desire and anticipation escaping her throat as they moved ever closer to where she wanted them, squeezing, stroking, caressing-

"Ruth, are you okay?"

Her eyes snapped open and she swore as the room began to spin.

"Ruth?"

He was at her side now, concern etched on his features as he loomed over her. As she opened her eyes again, she realized that she must have fallen back onto the bed at some point in the last few seconds.

"Fine," she croaked. "A little dizzy, that's all, but it's passed now."

"Oh, good," he murmured, but he didn't move.

She stared up at his familiar, hazel eyes, so full of concern and love for her. Since she got back, they were always full of love when he looked at her. And sadness. A sadness which mostly distracted her from the love, but right at this moment in time, she could see it clearly and it took her breath away. She was unable to stop her hands from reaching up to stroke his cheeks, nor was she able to stop them from sliding behind his neck, tangling themselves in his short, blond curls, and pulling him down toward her. His lips were soft and warm and wet, and all she'd even dreamt of and wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

_Yesterday, 11:30 pm_

"Hello, Harry. How's it going?"

"Just peachy, thanks."

"Oh, stop sulking, Mate, and go ask her to dance."

He glared at Lucas's retreating back and vowed to have him transferred to Uzbekistan in the morning. Then he turned around and made a slightly awry beeline for Ruth.

"Hello, Harry," she smiled and his frown evaporated in an instant.

"Hello, Ruth," he caressed her name. "Would you like to dance?"

"I'd love to," she beamed and held out her hand. He took it in his and squeezed it tight as he led her to the dance floor.

* * *

_Today, 23rd December, 8:00 am_

Her lips were soft and gently persuasive as they brushed against his, teasing, enticing, coaxing, until he was powerless to resist. He responded, his eyelids drifting shut as he pressed his mouth down on hers, his breathing becoming heavier as he lost himself in the feel of her against him, wanting him... He pulled away abruptly and stood up, taking several steps back as he struggled for control. He couldn't do this again. His heart couldn't take it. He raised his right hand to his face and rubbed his eyebrows with his thumb and fingers, shielding his eyes from the look of confusion and hurt he'd glimpsed on her face. "I'm sorry. I can't," he said in a hoarse voice, and lowering his hand, he gave her an brief apologetic look and turned toward the door.

Embarrassment, hurt, and disappointment vied for dominance inside her and she took refuge in anger. "Can't or won't?"

His step faltered but he didn't turn to face her. "Can't, won't, what's the difference?" he shrugged and walked out of the room and down the stairs.

She felt tears spring to her eyes, but she kept them at bay by concentrating on her anger. By the time she got dressed, went downstairs, and found him in the kitchen, she was fuming. "There is a big difference," she stated.

He was facing away from her, and at the sound of her voice, he paused for a moment in the act of pouring his coffee. "Tea or coffee?" he asked a few seconds later in a tightly controlled voice.

"Tea," she answered sharply.

He poured the hot water into the mug and put a tea bag in it before turning around and placing it on the table for her.

"Toast?" he asked as he raised his eyes to look at her, his expression unreadable.

"Yes, please," she replied a little less harshly this time.

They sat down and began to eat in silence, the only sound coming from the knives scraping against the toast and clinking against the plates.

"Well?" she said eventually.

"Ruth," he sighed. "Can't we just drop it? Please?"

"Oh, sure, why not?" she answered sarcastically. "Let's just pretend that this never happened, shall we? After all we're really good at that, pretending."

He watched her carefully as she turned back to her food, trying to work out what was going on in that complicated head of hers. It was obvious that she was spoiling for a fight, however, whether this was because she was upset about waking up in his bed, the fact that he refused to let her drag him back to it, or just because she was probably feeling as ill as he was this morning, he couldn't say. So he kept quiet and concentrated on his breakfast. There was absolutely no reason why he should let her vent her frustrations out on him.

Suddenly she got up and rushed from the room and up the stairs. He sighed. Finishing up his breakfast, he cleared away the dishes, and when she still hadn't reappeared, he went to look for her.

"Ruth?" he said gently as he tapped on the bathroom door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Give me a minute." Her voice sounded strained but not weepy.

"I'll... um... okay. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

"Okay."

A few minutes later she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently as he approached her.

"Yes, I'm fine." He was watching her with concern again and it irritated her, reminding her of his reaction earlier, upstairs when she'd responded to it. "I'm fine," she reiterated sharply. "I shouldn't have eaten anything. That's all."

"Ah," he nodded in sympathy, remembering his own stomach's revolt that morning. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she snapped. "I don't want your sympathy."

He took a step back at her aggressive tone.

"Sorry," she murmured, looking down at her hands and trying to reign in her temper. It was unusual for her to loose it like this, but she supposed that having a splitting headache, finding herself in Harry's bed with no recollection of how she got here, and having him reject her like that, qualified as extenuating circumstances.

"It's fine," he replied.

"I'd better go."

"I can give you a lift."

"No, thank you. I'll take the bus."

"Please. It's the least I could do."

"No, Harry. The least you could do is explain," she said as she looked up and met his gaze.

* * *

_Today, 12:30 am_

"Lucas, I need your help. Take Harry home. He's absolutely wasted and I can't support his weight. I've already called a cab. It's outside."

"All right, Ros. I'll take care of it, but don't expect me to tuck him in."

"No tucking will be necessary, Lucas. Just shove him onto bed. I'm sure he'll be fine."

He grinned at her retreating back and walked up to Harry, who was slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. "Come on, Harry. I'm taking you home." Lucas got a mumbled, unintelligible response before he pulled his boss up and shepherded him out of the room toward the waiting cab.


	5. Chapter 5

_Today, 23rd December, 8:30 am_

Their eyes held, hers glaring at him in challenge, his flashing in anger. She had pushed too far this time.

"What do you want me to say, Ruth? _What? _That I can't take it any more? That I'm terrified of what I'll see in your eyes afterwards, when you change your mind again? Do you have _any_ idea how painful it was to see the panic, the fear, the... the regret in your eyes this morning? Do you? I _cannot_ and _will_ not put myself through that again."

She stared at him mutely for a moment as his eyes glared at her in anger, no longer radiating love but pain. His chest rose and fell with every harsh breath that he took, and she blinked back her tears as she murmured, "I'm sorry, Harry. I..." She searched for the right words to explain, to set things straight, to fix this, but they eluded her. Finally a few seconds later, she gave up and turned around, picked up her bag, grabbed her coat, opened the front door, walked through it, and closed it firmly behind her. As she walked away from his house, tears started to slide down her cheeks and she wiped them away roughly. She was very grateful that she had today off.

* * *

_Today, 12:40 am_

"Come on, Ruth. Cab's here."

"Cab? What cab?"

"I'm taking you home. Party's over."

"I can drive her home," Max offered and added hastily, "or not," when he saw the look Ros gave him.

"Good night," she said coldly.

"Night," he murmured. "Good night, Ruth."

"Night," she smiled and allowed Ros to guide her to the cab.

* * *

_Today, 23rd December, 9 am_

He hated early morning shoppers. What the hell? Didn't anyone else work? It wasn't even Christmas Eve yet. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of the car. Still, given the state his head was in, it was probably for the best that had to drive slowly. He should have really called a cab this morning, he realized as he raised a hand to massage his throbbing temples. Well, there wasn't much he could do about it now except be careful, and he knew he'd driven in a worse state than this before and survived to tell the tale...

His thoughts drifted back to Ruth and the look on her face before she'd left. He hated that she'd managed to get him to react, that he'd spoken so harshly to her. He'd told her the truth, but there was no excuse for the biting tone of his voice. Hell, maybe there was an excuse, but it still made him feel awful. He'd apologise, he decided, find some way to fix this. He wasn't sure how yet, but he'd find a way. This was them, after all; they always managed to muddle through somehow. She had the day off today, which was good. It would give them both time to cool off.

Another red light. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through his nose. And then it happened, a vision, waking up with Ruth in his arms, the delight, the joy, the feeling of his lips on hers, her body pressing against him as she moaned his name, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, so soft, so beautiful, so exquisite... A hoot from behind had his eyes snapping open and returning to the road as he put the car quickly in gear and drove.

When he got to Thames House, he was still unsure if the vision in the car had been a hangover induced fantasy or a recollection from last night. It had a dream like quality that didn't feel real, but then nothing felt right or real this morning, especially not his head. It seemed that no matter how much water he drank, his head still felt like it might explode at the slightest movement and he couldn't risk taking any more pain killers yet. He dearly wished that he could have stayed in bed today... with Ruth. God, if only she hadn't looked at him like that...

"Morning, Harry," Lucas smiled cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

Harry merely glared at him as he strode past to his office.

"What's up with him?" Tariq asked quietly.

"Rough night," Lucas shrugged.


	6. Chapter 6

_Today, 1 am_

"Need a hand, love?" the cabbie asked good naturedly.

"No, thank you. I can manage," Ros replied. "Here. Keep the change."

"Thanks, love. Have a good one."

"I'm not your love," Ros muttered under her breath as she heaved Ruth up and steadied her as they made their way up the path to her house. She wasn't unconscious but it was close, and Ros had to take most of her weight.

Ros fiddled with the keys as she waited for the cab to drive off. Once it was out of sight, she turned around and helped Ruth to enter the passenger seat of her car. Then she drove over to Harry's house.

* * *

_Today, 23rd December, 10 am_

She'd actually driven over to his house last night! Her car had been parked on the street just outside, and when she'd seen it, she'd been flabbergasted. It was scary to think that she'd driven there, and not just because of the danger she'd put herself and others in by doing so while drunk. The fact that she would do such a thing when all her inhibitions had been removed by alcohol, underlined the extent and depth of her desire and love for Harry. And in that moment when she'd reached up and kissed him, she'd been finally ready to accept and embrace it; she'd been brave and prepared for the consequences of her actions. She'd wanted to throw aside everything that had held her back for so many years and just take the leap of faith that was required to be with Harry... but he'd stopped her and now... she was no longer brave enough. All her barriers had sprung back up and they seemed even more insurmountable than before.

What the hell was wrong with the pair of them? She sighed as she carried her cup of tea into her sitting room and placed it on the coffee table before lying down on the sofa and pulling a blanket over herself. They couldn't talk about their feelings, couldn't express their love for each other in a normal every day kind of way, kept miss-reading and miss-interpreting each other's actions and words, and they had the most awful timing of any two people on the whole bloody planet! In those few seconds she'd felt so free, light and open, and now the anger, hurt and guilt were back, weighing her down and keeping her isolated, alone.

She thought of George and Nico, she thought of Cyprus and her elegant, simple life, she thought of herself, how she used to be, full of hope, desire, excitement and, yes, naivety. She sighed and wished that she'd never left, never met George, never watched him die, never seen Nico's devastated face, never watched him board a plane without her, leaving her behind, alone, lonely, hurt, a mother without a child. The anger, guilt and grief were like a millstone around her neck, and she couldn't get rid of it. She didn't know how, didn't know if it was even possible, or if she wanted to.

* * *

_Today, 1:20 am_

The lack of traffic made it a quick drive. She parked the car and got out, moving quickly and quietly to the front door. She picked the lock and entered the house, going over to the alarm to check that it was off. It was. Good old Lucas. Then she returned to the car to get Ruth. She half carried her up the stairs and into the bedroom, easing her down onto the bed next to Harry. She removed Ruth's shoes and then Harry's as it looked like Lucas had taken her at her word, and literally, shoved Harry into bed. He was lying on his stomach, snoring away and didn't even stir when Ruth muttered something incoherent and rolled over, pressing against his side.

"You'd better make this work," she murmured as she watched them for a moment. "I did my part. Now it's up to you." She put the car key into Ruth's bag, turned around, and left the room and then the house.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all the encouraging reviews. The following twist will hopefully give me enough ideas to drag this on for the full HR Advent Calendar. I'm a little worried that the present/past format will get a little confusing from here on, so I'll probably deviate from it a little and put most scenes in chronological order. Please let me know if things get too muddled. Thanks again, S.C. **

* * *

_Almost 2 months later, 14th February, 7 am_

She rushed out of the house in a panic, running to catch the bus. _Calm down_, she told herself. There had to be another explanation for it. It couldn't possibly be true. She got on the bus and opened her book, but she stared unseeing at the pages in front of her. She would just have to check, that's all, she decided. Closing the book, she turned to stare out the window instead, lost in a sea of thoughts and emotions. A few moments later, however, something caught her eye and she blinked before looking back out the window and catching a glimpse of what she needed. Jumping up, she pressed the button and made her way swiftly downstairs. Then getting off the bus as it stopped, she called out a hurried, "thank you," to the bus driver and dashed back toward the Boots she'd glimpsed, barely registering the hearts and flowers that decorated the shops proclaiming that it was Valentine's day.

She bought two just to make sure and rushed to the bathroom. Now she sat staring at them, willing them to... what? She didn't know. Another surprise there. This morning when she'd realized, she'd panicked and had found herself almost praying for it not to be true. Now, however, almost an hour later, she was having second thoughts. This was her only chance really. It would be terrifying at times, unpredictable, difficult, but still her only chance. And she desperately wanted that chance again. A sound outside the cubicle made her almost jump as she was suddenly pulled out of her reverie and looked down at the white sticks in her hands. Both were positive. She was pregnant... and she smiled.

* * *

_Almost 2 months earlier, 24th December, 11 am_

"Some paperwork for you to sign," she murmured as she walked up to his desk, not quite daring to meet his eye.

"Thanks," he replied and began to skim through it before autographing each page.

"Thank you," she said as she picked it up and turned toward the door. Half way there, she paused and turned back to face him. "I'm sorry, Harry, for the way I acted yesterday." He looked up at her, his eyes searching hers, and she forced herself to continue. "I wanted you to know that I never intended to hurt you."

His gaze softened and he murmured, "It's okay, Ruth. I know you didn't deliberately set out to hurt me. I didn't mean to imply that you had. I too am sorry for what I said." She nodded and he added, "Let's just forget it ever happened. Yes?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and just nodded and gave him a small smile before leaving his office.

* * *

_Almost 2 months later, 14th February, 3 pm_

There was a lull in the activity on the grid and she looked up from her terminal. She'd already called her GP and ascertained that she didn't need to go in to confirm her pregnancy. They scheduled an appointment for her in three weeks time. Initially, she was surprised by this, but since then she'd researched the topic thoroughly during her lunch break and felt more comfortable. There was nothing much that needed to be done before the three month mark, except make sure that she ate well, slept well, drank enough water, avoided drugs and alcohol (she was grateful that she hadn't had anything to drink since the night her baby was conceived), and take Folic Acid supplements. Pretty easy stuff really.

She glanced around the Grid; it seemed almost empty. Ros and Lucas were out and Tariq was glued to his screen. A few junior officers were moving about with purpose, and Harry was staring down at something on his desk, deep in concentration. This would have to do. She got up, and picking up a couple of files so as not to arouse suspicion, she headed to his office.

The door was closed and she paused outside it, giving herself a brief pep talk. She didn't want to have this conversation, but there was no longer any alternative. They had managed fine so far in ignoring what had happened between them after the Christmas party, and after an awkward week or so, they had settled back into their old routine at work as if nothing had happened. Now, she was dreading having to bring it up, but there was no help for it. Sighing, she gave herself a mental shake before sliding his door open. He looked up and she gave him a strained smile before turning and closing the door firmly behind her. That got his attention and he sat up fully alert as she turned to face him.

"What is it?" he asked, and when she failed to answer immediately, he began to get up.

"No, don't," she managed to say and saw the frown that appeared on his face as he sat back down heavily. "It's just... easier to say this without you..." she gestured between them helplessly.

He waited, his mind working feverishly to figure out what might be so difficult for Ruth to tell him and not liking any of the answers he came up with. "Well?" he said eventually.

She took a deep breath, and forcing herself to look him in the eye, said, "I'm pregnant."

That was so far removed from _any_ of the things he thought she might say, that he began to doubt his hearing and comprehension of the English language. He stared at her.

"It's yours," she added as an afterthought, just in case he had any doubts.

That floored him. He swallowed and attempted to speak but failed. He cleared his throat. "But we... we didn't..."

"We must have, Harry," she sighed. "There is no other way we could find ourselves in this situation." She looked down at her hands and added quietly, "I haven't... with anyone else... before or since... and neither have I had any other lapses in memory."

He swallowed again. "What are you going to do?"

She looked up at him with a puzzled frown. "What do you mean?"

"Are you...are you going to...?"

"Oh, I see," she said as his meaning finally dawned on her. "No. I want to keep him... or her." She wondered briefly why he thought she was telling him this if she would be terminating her pregnancy. Surely he didn't think her so spiteful? But then she realized that he was in shock, not really thinking straight, and just asking the questions as they occurred to him.

"Right... good," he murmured, still completely stunned.

"Harry, I know this is a bit of a shock... actually, more like a hell of a shock for both of us... and we need time to work out what we want to do. I just thought you should know. I won't... I mean, I don't want..." She took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm keeping my baby... our baby. I know that's what I want, but I wanted to tell you so that you could figure out what _you _want... And then we can talk about it some other time, when we've both had time to think."

She smiled at him tentatively and he nodded, still a utterly shell shocked. She took three steps forward, put the folders she was holding on his desk and left his office.


	8. Chapter 8

_Same day, 14th February, 3:15 pm_

He just stared at the door, through which she'd disappeared, lost in tumult of thoughts and emotions. Ruth was carrying his child! A child that had been conceived during an act that neither of them could _really_ remember. The situation was so bizarre that he had difficulty believing that he wasn't dreaming. He leant forward and put his head in his hands as his mind attempted to deal with this new development. Images of Ruth flicked through his head, images from the past when she was full of enthusiasm, life, brilliance and naiveté, images from her return, battered, bruised, and intelligent as ever, but missing the joy and the sparkle that had been uniquely hers, that had drawn him to her in the first place. Images of a goodbye kiss on the docks, images of a reunion in a warehouse, and images he thought he'd lost in his drunken stupor, images of holding her in his arms, undressing her, kissing her, touching her, whispering words of love, hearing her moans of pleasure, hearing her whisper his name as he impatiently slid inside her unable to wait even to remove the rest of his clothes, the feeling of bliss as he lay next to her afterwards, spent. Images of her eyes as they looked at him the next morning in alarm, in panic, in regret, stabbing at his heart repeatedly like daggers.

He stood up suddenly, sending his chair flying backward in his haste as he swiped his hand through the air in an effort to get rid of that last image. He opened his eyes and stared across the grid at the woman he'd been thinking about, the woman he loved, the woman he desired, the woman he craved, the woman he was somehow unable to let go, the woman who was carrying his child... and he smiled.

* * *

_Ten days later, 24th February, 1 pm_

Smiling, he watched her eating her sandwich with gusto.

"What?" she asked as she glanced up at him.

"Nothing." She narrowed her eyes at him and he added, "I've just never seen you eat with so much... enthusiasm before."

She raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged. "I have a good appetite. It makes it easier to remember to eat. Normally, I forget a lot."

"No sickness?" he asked, remembering how Jane had suffered.

"None," she grinned, "and I know I'm lucky." She turned back to her food and Harry continued to watch her as she ate. Eventually she frowned at his continued scrutiny and looked at him quizzically.

"You look...different," he explained.

"How?" she asked, curious to know.

"Like you used to before... before you went away. You look..." _Beautiful, dazzling, radiant, _he thought but didn't dare say any of it. Instead he settled on, "You look happy." There was a wistful look in his eyes as he said it.

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she smiled. "I feel better... lighter... content."

He just nodded, surprised at the contact, and continued to watch her eat, unable to look away from her sparkling eyes and radiant face. How he'd missed this Ruth. This was _his_ Ruth; the one he'd fallen in love with, the one he never thought he'd see again. It felt so good to see her eyes sparkle like that.

He hadn't wanted any more children, mainly because he'd failed so spectacularly at being a father the first time round. Now, however, he was suddenly feeling extremely grateful for this baby. Not only was it making Ruth positively glow with pleasure, it was already bringing them closer together than they had been in a long time. They were sharing a meal and talking about something other than work, something personal.

"Are you going to eat that?" she asked, intruding on his thoughts.

"No."

"May I?"

"Of course." He pushed his plate over to her and she picked up the other half of his sandwich. He could never eat more than half; his body didn't need it. He was getting old and yet would soon be a father again. The thought both thrilled and terrified him at the same time.

"So, what have you decided?" she asked before she took a bite of his sandwich.

"About what?"

"The baby," she sighed in exasperation.

"What do you mean, decided?" he frowned.

"Do you want to be a part of his or her life? Do you want to help in some other way or not at all? Do you have any preference for names? Any or all of the above? Something else?" she shrugged.

"I _do_ want to be a part of his or her life. Of course I do, Ruth. I'm his dad."

"Okay, good," she smiled, relieved to hear him say that though she'd had little doubt that he would. Harry took his responsibilities seriously, and he was certainly partly responsible for creating the little person that was currently growing inside her. "I have my first appointment on the 5th of March if you want to come."

"I'd like that... if you wouldn't mind."

"I'll put it in your diary. We'll call it operation...σύλληψη – Greek for conception," she grinned.

"Okay," he chuckled.

"Do you want a girl or a boy?" she asked, surprising herself by how easy it was to talk to him about this. It felt... natural, not a word she would have normally associated with the two of them. Harry had always made her feel tense and agitated, and though she could still feel the ever-present sexual tension between them, she was also feeling a strange calmness, something she'd never experienced before when near him.

"I don't care as long as it's healthy." This was a very odd kind of conversation to be having with Ruth, but at the same time he loved the fact that is was a typical thing for a couple to talk about. If only they were a couple, it would have made this perfect.

"Neither do I. I don't want to know beforehand either. I want it to be a surprise."

"That's fine. We won't find out. We... _I_ didn't know with Catherine or Graham."

She smiled. "I keep forgetting you've done this before."

"Not in a very long time," he sighed. He paused and then confessed quietly, "I wasn't around much the first two times, and even when I was physically present, I was often mentally elsewhere. I was too focused on the job, on my carrier."

She reached for his hand again and squeezed it once more as she noticed the regret and self-recrimination in his voice. "This is your chance to do it differently if you want to, Harry. I'll not stop you from seeing our child. I promise."

"Oh, Ruth, if only..." he tailed off and looked away to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes. "Excuse me a moment," he said gruffly a few seconds later and got up to visit the gent's.

Ruth watched him go and sighed. Much as she would like to be, she wasn't ready yet. She wasn't ready to give him what she suspected he so desperately wanted. She hoped that there would be time for the two of them to act on the deep love they felt for each other. She'd made some progress. She was seeing a therapist. She'd found a list of approved therapists that could be used by Security Service personnel, and she'd visited a couple before she'd found one she liked. She owed it to her unborn child to get rid of some of the baggage she was carrying. And she felt better these days, lighter and more cheerful, more like her old self. But she still had a long way to go and she was worried that trying now, would result in failure and would create another barrier between them and make things more difficult for their child. There was more than just the two of them to think about now.


	9. Chapter 9

_Three days later, 28th February, 9 am_

"Hello, Ruth," he said, pausing at her desk for a moment.

"Hi, Harry," she smiled up at him.

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"Good," he nodded and walked away to his office.

Ruth shook her head in exasperation and turned back to work. He was becoming quite obvious with his attentions now, though thankfully only when they were on the Grid. She was sure the rest of the team had picked up on it. Surprisingly, however, it didn't bother her. Somehow now that his attention and concern was not focused solely on her, it defused the intensity of it and she could cope with it. When he asked how she was every day, he was asking about his child, not just about her, and she found it endearing rather than overwhelming as she would have done in the past. Plus, she didn't really mind the rest of the team knowing. It was people who didn't know her and Harry, and the depth of their feelings for each other, that she didn't want to know. They would think their relationship mercenary, and she couldn't stand that.

She glanced at his office and caught him watching her, before he smiled sheepishly and turned back to work. It wasn't unusual to find him doing so, even before she'd discovered her pregnancy. She still couldn't believe that it had taken her _two months_ to notice it. Of course her periods had never been particularly regular, and when she'd missed the first one in January, she'd just assumed she hadn't ovulated that month. After all, it had happened to her before, and to be honest, she'd been so convinced that she and Harry hadn't had sex, that she didn't even consider it until she'd missed her second period. Her memories from that night were pretty much non-existent. She had vague recollections, blissful feelings really without images, of them touching and kissing, but nothing more than that. Of course, she'd been naked, which in retrospect should have aroused her suspicions, but he had not been, and at the time, this had been sufficient to allay her initial concerns. She'd just assumed that they'd done _something_, but not _everything_. It was stupid really that she hadn't gone to the doctor anyway, but she couldn't really find it in her to regret her decision. She did really want to have this baby. It was the kind of thing that she would never have been able to go through if she'd planned it. She could think of too many reasons not to, but now that she had it, she was truly thrilled about it.

It was just a shame really that she couldn't remember much. Part of her wanted to be able to remember that night in great detail because... well, because this was _Harry_... however, another part of her knew that recollections like that would make things between her and Harry very awkward for her, and she didn't want that. She was enjoying the closeness between them that had sprung up as a result of her pregnancy. It seemed to have done away with a lot of the awkwardness that still lingered since George. She wondered briefly if Harry remembered more than she did and then dismissed the idea quickly as it caused her undue embarrassment. Even if he did, it didn't matter. She'd already decided that she wanted him. She wanted a life with Harry and she was determined to build it. Slowly but steadily, she would fix her own life so that there was room in it for Harry and their child. Theirs was going to be a happily ever after kind of story, she'd decided the day after she'd found out about the baby. It was something she'd never really believed in before. "In order to get something, Ruth," her father used to say, "you have to believe it, visualize it, and work hard for it." So that's what she was going to do, she thought as she turned her mind back to work.

Across the room Lucas smiled and went to find Ros. "I think you did it," he grinned.

"Did what?"

"Harry and Ruth. That's the fourth time this week that I've seen him seek her out when he entered the Grid, and he's been watching her much more than usual."

"Yes. It's rather odd. For six weeks there was nothing and then this week... Something's changed."

"Perhaps Ruth is finally comfortable with more obvious attentions on the Grid."

"Perhaps," she replied and moved off to find Tariq.

* * *

_One week later, 5th March, 2 pm_

"Γειά σου, Ruth. Χέρομαι που σε ξαναβλέπω και συγχαρητήρια," Dr. Alexiou smiled, embracing her gently.

"Γειά σου, Αφροδίτη," she replied. "Είναι ωραία αλλαγή που επισκεύτομαι την κλινική για ένα χαρούμενο γεγονός."

"Έχεις δίκιο," the doctor chuckled and turned to Harry. "But we're being very rude, Ruth, unless of course you speak Greek too? Hello, I'm Dr. Alexiou."

"Harry Pearce. Pleased to meet you. And, no, speaking multiple languages is Ruth's talent, not mine," he replied, shaking the doctor's hand.

"The father?" she asked after glancing down at the form Ruth had already filled in and dropped off last week.

"Yes."

"Good. Welcome. Now, Ruth, Joan has already weighed you and measured your blood pressure. Everything seems fine at this stage. The urine and blood samples you gave us will be sent in for analysis and we'll ring you with the results. I have some information for you on the kinds of things you should be doing, what you should eat, what you should avoid in terms of food and exercise. That kind of thing." Ruth nodded and the doctor continued, "but first, I understand that you don't want to have your dating scan?"

"I know how many weeks," Ruth blushed and glanced at Harry. "We only... that is..."

"What Ruth is trying to say, Doctor," Harry helped her out, "is that she and I are colleagues and friends, but are not currently in a relationship. We had a little too much to drink at the office Christmas party and, well... the rest, as they say, is history."

"I see," the doctor nodded. "Well, that makes it easier to establish a due date at least, which is the 16th of September, yes?" Ruth nodded and the doctor turned to Harry. "Given that you are present today, Mr. Pearce, I take it that you are willing to help Ruth through this pregnancy and with your child?"

"Yes."

"I ask because it is important for you, Ruth, to have the proper support during your pregnancy, but especially during delivery and after the baby's born. Giving birth is a wonderful, but exhausting experience and you will need to rest afterwards. Given that the two of you are not living together, I would highly recommend that you look into hiring a doula to assist you both during delivery and post-partum. She should be able to help you plan the birth you want, support you through labour, and after the baby's born, help with the shopping, cooking, taking care of the baby while you sleep, helping you if you have any trouble nursing your newborn, that kind of thing. There is some information on doulas in the packet Joan gave you." Ruth nodded again. "Ruth, have you chosen what kind of care you wish to receive? Given your medical history, I don't feel the need to recommend obstetrician care, however, because of your age, I would recommend that you choose GP-led or GP sole care."

"I would like joined care with you and a midwife," Ruth replied confidently.

"Okay, good. Our clinic works on a team basis, so it will be unlikely that you will see the same doctor or midwife throughout your ante-natal care. Not to worry though; you're in good hands." She smiled at Ruth. "Now, would you like me to see if we can pick up a heartbeat?" Ruth nodded. "Okay, hop up here and we'll see if we can find this little one." Ruth sat on the end of the examination table. "You don't need to undress, but if you would pull down your skirt a little and your shirt up, it'll make my job a lot easier. I'll use a hand-held foetal heart monitor."

Much as Harry wished to watch, he turned his body so that he could see only Ruth's face, something she was very grateful for. Once she was lying down, the doctor felt around her abdomen gently and then applied a little gel on her tummy before pressing the monitor against it. She moved it around a little and said, "If this is uncomfortable, let me know. We can stop any time you like. Like I said, it isn't always possible to find the baby this early on in the pregnancy. Let's see if this little one will cooperate." She fiddled with the knobs and moved the device around some more as she murmured, "Come on, sweetheart, Mummy and Daddy want to hear your heart beating." Ruth glanced at Harry. He was smiling and she realized that she was too. It was the first time someone had said those words out loud, mummy and daddy.

A moment later the room filled with the sound of the baby's heart beating at an incredible speed. The doctor smiled and looked at Ruth. "It's so fast," Ruth whispered.

"Yes, it is, but don't worry, that's normal." She looked at her watch and timed the beats for half a minute before declaring, "128 beats per minute. Nice and strong."

Ruth looked at Harry again and their eyes held as they both smiled in delight.

* * *

_**Translation of Greek:** _

_"Hello, Ruth. I'm glad to see you again and congratulations," Dr. Alexiou smiled, embracing her gently._

_"Hello, Aphrodite," she replied. "It's a nice change to be visiting the clinic for a happy event."_

_"You're quite right," the doctor chuckled and turned to Harry._


	10. Chapter 10

_Two weeks later, 18th March, 8 am_

"Harry, I need to tell them soon. I'm really starting to show now."

He glanced up at her and watched her as she twisted her hands together in apprehension while she looked out over the river.

"Do you want to tell them that it's mine?" he asked gently after a short internal struggle with himself. He was dreading the answer to this one.

"I don't mind the team knowing," she answered immediately, so she had clearly given it some thought. "In fact, I don't see how we can avoid telling them. You've been so attentive to me lately that they'll never believe it's not yours. However, I'd rather it was not public knowledge. It would lead to awkward questions and inaccurate assumptions."

"I appreciate that," he replied, very relieved that he didn't have to hide the truth from his team at least. "We can arrange to meet at doghouse three for lunch. Then you can tell them."

"Okay," she nodded, twisting the fabric of her cardigan around now and biting her lip.

He placed his hand on hers gently, stilling their motion, and waited as she turned to look at him. "It's going to be all right, Ruth. I promise."

She sighed. "You can't promise that, Harry. You don't know how things will turn out. What if there's something wrong? Or I go into labour early? And even if everything is fine and I have our baby at the right time and it's healthy, what if... what if it ends up a hostage like Nico? What if no one's there this time to save him? What if they kill us and he's left alone in the world? How will he bear it? How will I? Or you?"

Harry didn't know what to say. That was not what he'd meant, but Ruth was opening up to him about her fears, and to his dismay, there was nothing he could say to reassure her. Nothing. But she knew that. She was his best analyst; she'd worked it all out already. So perhaps all she wanted was comfort. Someone to listen to her concerns and just be there. Without thinking too much about it, he shifted closer to her on the bench and gingerly placed his arm around her shoulders.

"I know, Ruth," he murmured. "I know."

And for once in his life, it appeared that he had read the situation correctly and done the right thing because she turned into his shoulder and buried her face there, gripping his hand tightly as she fought against the tears that threatened to fall. And he held her like that, selfishly enjoying one of the few opportunities he'd had to hold her close, inhaling the soft scent of her hair, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, and caressing her shoulder in gentle, comforting circles.

She didn't let him hold her long, pulling back far too soon and shaking her head at herself. "Sorry. I'm being silly."

"No, Ruth. It's normal to worry about these things."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Normal to worry about hostage situations?"

"Well, perhaps not hostage situations," he conceded with a small smile. "But normal to worry about the safety of your loved ones, especially your children. I do it all the time. The difficulty is to not let it rule your life and make you miserable."

"I know," she nodded.

"It's not always easy," he admitted.

"I know that too."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, looking out over the water, lost in thought.

"Thank you," she murmured eventually as she turned her gaze on him.

He looked at her and smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and made them twinkle at her. "It feels good to finally get something right with you," he said. She laughed and he felt the warmth of it radiate through his body all the way to his toes and settle in his heart. "I seem to be on a role here," he added with a grin, and it made her laugh again.

They held each other's gaze for a long time until Ruth began to feel self-conscious, and glancing swiftly down at her hands and then back up at his face, she said, "Come on. We'd better get back to work. You know, information to analyse, people to save, terrorist plots to avert, and politicians to appease."

He grimaced at her last words as she got up and extended her hand toward him. He took it gladly and let her pull him to his feet before reluctantly releasing it as, slowly, he slid his fingertips across her palm and down her fingers. The sensation was exquisite, and it made his skin tingle and his body ache for more. He wanted her so much, so desperately, but he was petrified that she would push him away if he made any move toward her, or worse, accept him and then change her mind. So fighting back the urge to pull her into his arms, he balled his hand into a fist and set off toward Thames House at a brisk pace with Ruth right beside him.

* * *

_Later the same day, 18th March, 1 pm_

Tariq took a sip of his beer and said, "So, what's this about then?"

Harry looked at Ruth making Lucas and Ros exchange knowing glances, however, even they were unprepared for what exactly Ruth was going to say. She nodded to Harry, took a deep breath, and murmured quietly, "I'm pregnant." There was a stunned silence as everyone stared at her for a long moment. Then all eyes turned to Harry, making Ruth smile and say, "See? I told you so."

Harry grinned; he couldn't help it. There was a pause and then Lucas reached over and hugged Ruth murmuring, "Congratulations, Ruth."

"Thank you, Lucas," she beamed.

Lucas released her with a warm smile and offered his hand to Harry across the table. "Congratulations, Harry."

"Thank you."

"Wait, you're..." Tariq tailed off as Ros silenced him with a look. "Right," he added. "Congratulations, Ruth, Harry," he said.

"Yes, congratulations. Hopefully the kid will get its mother's brains and its father's balls, so to speak," Ros added in her usual frank manner.

Her statement struck Ruth as funny, and she began to laugh so hard that tears started to role down her cheeks and she doubled over gasping for breath. Her laughter was contagious and everyone else was unable to stop themselves from joining in as they watched her. "Oh, God, Ros. I haven't laughed like that in ages. Thank you," Ruth chuckled as her laughter subsided and she wiped away the tears from her cheeks. "I actually have a stitch now."

"Glad I'm still able to provide some comic relief. I was beginning to worry that I was getting far too serious. So I take it that the parentage of Ruth's child is to remain a secret?"

"Exactly," Harry replied.

"Why?" Tariq asked and immediately regretted it as everyone turned to stare at him.

"Because, you thick headed nitwit," Ros replied in exasperation, "there are many people who would use the fact that the Head of Section D is having an affair with his analyst, who is carrying his child, against him to further their own agenda."

"Oh, right, of course," Tariq murmured. "Sorry."

"Actually, we're not-" Ruth began but was interrupted.

"Ruth, not now," Harry shook his head.

"But-"

"I think, if you continue that sentence, you will rapidly move into the general area of awkward conversation with the potential of plummeting swiftly into the 'too much information' category."

Ruth closed her mouth. Everyone else looked from Ruth to Harry in surprise.

"Problem?" Harry asked, giving them his most intimidating stare.

"No," Tariq murmured and Lucas shook his head and turned his attention to his beer.

Only Ros kept staring at him, holding his gaze patiently until he gave in. After all, if Ruth wanted the team to know that they weren't sleeping together, he might as well get it over with before it became one more source of friction between them.

Harry sighed. "All right. What Ruth wished you to know is that, contrary to what you might have concluded based on the evidence before you, she and I are not, in fact, having an affair. It appears to have been a one off event that will not be repeated in the foreseeable future." He paused and then mumbled quietly, "Though not from lack of wanting to on my part."

Despite the relatively high level of background noise coming from the other occupants of the pub they currently found themselves in, Ros and Ruth both heard the last remark as they were sitting next to him and he didn't say it as quietly as he intended. Ros smirked and Ruth huffed indignantly, "If I recall correctly, Harry, which I do, seeing as my memory is impeccable, _you_ were the one who refused any further hanky-panky in your bedroom."

Lucas choked on his beer, Ros's smirk broadened, Tariq looked up at Ruth and then Harry and hastily took an interest in his empty beer mug, and Harry just gaped at her completely lost for words. The Ruth he knew was shy and reserved, however, pregnant Ruth, it appeared, was as bold as brass and used words like hanky-panky, something that, unfortunately, he was beginning to find really turned him on. She glared at him for a moment before she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

"Bloody hell," Lucas muttered after he'd managed to stop coughing.

"Yeah," Tariq added in bewilderment. "What the hell happened to gentle, quiet Ruth?"

"Hormones, Tariq," Ros said knowingly, "hormones. Just stay in her good books until she's had this baby... Still, it could come in handy. Next time the Home Secretary pisses you off, Harry, just send Ruth to have a word with him. She'll put him in his place for you." She winked at him and got up. "Well, this was fun, but I have work to do. See you all back at the Grid."


	11. Chapter 11

_About two months later, 20th May, 9 am_

"So," Lucas was saying, "we know that they are-"

A gasp from Ruth interrupted his speech and everyone turned to look at her. She was sitting next to Harry as usual, and ignoring his concerned, "What's wrong?" she grabbed his hand and placed it on her protruding stomach. To say he was surprised by the contact would be an understatement, but seconds later he forgot all about it when he felt it; the baby kicked his hand.

"Did you feel it?" she asked eagerly, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

He nodded and smiled into her eyes. The rest of the team looked on at the happy couple before them, unable once more to understand why they could not put aside all their differences and see what was so obvious to all of them; they were perfect together.

* * *

_About two weeks later, 6th June, 10:30 pm_

The pods swung open and Harry entered the grid and walked toward his office, looking exhausted. He glanced toward Ruth's table expecting it to be empty, but a pair of familiar blue eyes were watching him with concern. He tilted his head slightly in invitation and she immediately got up and followed him into his office. He went straight to his decanter and poured himself a generous measure of whiskey.

"Ruth, why are you still here?"

She frowned at him and chose to ignore the question. "Any more news, Harry?"

"No," he sighed, "but in this case, no news is bad news."

She nodded and moved to stand next to him, her eyes over bright and filled with sadness and concern for him as she scanned his face. "I'm sorry, Harry."

He sought her eyes out with his own, taking the comfort and strength that they always gave him so willingly. He nodded, and without conscious thought, he reached up and pushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. She gave him a small smile and he murmured, "Go home, Ruth. Get some rest." She opened her mouth to protest, but he didn't let her. "Please, Ruth. I need to know that you're taking care of yourself and our child. It's late."

She looked at him quietly for a moment, seeing the strain of the last few hours written clearly across his features and realizing that he needed her to do this for him, so that he had one less thing to worry about. She nodded and reached up to place a kiss on his cheek, taking him by surprise. "I'll go home. I hope you get some rest soon too, Harry."

She turned and made her way out of his office, pausing at the door to look at him once more before she left to get her things. She made her way home, but once she'd eaten and got into bed, she felt so alone and so very sad. She wanted Harry here with her right now and she wished, now more than ever, that they had worked things out between them, that they'd managed to get their timing right, that they were on the same page for once. But then she realized how futile such a wish was, because even if they had managed to do all that, Harry would not have been home tonight. His place was still at work, sorting through the nightmare that Nightingale had created through all their recent actions which culminated in today's blowing up of the hotel. So no matter how much she needed him here to comfort her, to share the burden of her grief, he would not have been able to be here for her even if he'd wanted to.

They'd lost Ros today. From Harry's manner, she'd understood that there was no hope, that she was gone. Ros, their strong, almost fearless leader, was no more. She hugged herself tightly and soon the tears started to fall, and she sobbed against her pillow in grief, crying herself to sleep.

* * *

_About two weeks earlier, 23rd May, 2:30 pm_

Ruth felt the baby kick again and smiled. The excitement she felt every time this happened wasn't wearing off though the midwife had assured her that it would, especially when it began to happen a lot at night. Reaching out to her right, she grabbed the hand of the person next to her and placed it on her stomach saying, "Do you feel it?" She looked up to find Ros staring at her and immediately released her hand and murmured an apology, but to her surprise, Ros smiled and left her hand on her protruding stomach.

"Those are strong kicks," she said. "It must be a girl. It'll be up to you to bring her up as strong as the women of Section D, Ruth."

"I'll do my best, Ros... but I'm sure I could use some help with that. If it's a girl, she'll need good, strong, female role models and I can't think of a better one than you. Would you like to be her godmother?"

Ros stared at her for a moment, her eyes betraying for a split second the surprise and pleasure Ruth's words brought to her, before replying in her usual mildly sarcastic tones, "As long as I don't have to be a fairy godmother. I'm afraid my magical powers are not what they used to be."

"I don't know, Ros," a passing Lucas commented with a smile. "Your magical powers certainly did the trick the last time you tested them out."

Ruth looked at Ros quizzically, but she just shrugged and returned to her work.


	12. Chapter 12

_About two weeks later, 8th June, 10:30 pm_

"Ruth, what are you doing?"

"Accepting your offer of a lift, Harry. Good evening, Mike."

"Good evening, Ms Evershed."

"Ruth, please call me Ruth."

He smiled. On the handful of occasions that he'd given Ms Evershed a lift, she would always go against protocol and ask him to use her first name, something he was uncomfortable doing. It was like a long standing joke between them. He would always start by trying to get away with calling her Ms Evershed and she'd always correct him with a smile. She really was a lovely lady, he thought.

"Good evening, Ms Ruth," he said and she smiled, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes today. Mike didn't blame her. He knew Sir Harry's team had suffered a loss recently and he was very sorry for that. Mike waited until Ruth got in the back of the car with Sir Harry and then closed the door before moving round to take his seat behind the wheel. "Where to first, Sir?"

"Sir Harry's house, please," Ruth replied.

"Ruth, what are you doing?"

"I told you. I'm accepting your offer of a lift."

"And when did I make this offer, Ruth, because I can't recall doing so."

"Doesn't surprise me in the least with your memory, Harry."

"Funny," he murmured and his lips formed a slight pout.

They were quiet for a few moments as Mike pulled out into the road and began the arduous task of negotiating London's traffic. Then she said, "Actually, it was about a month ago."

"What was?" he asked distractedly.

"Your offer of a lift."

He made an exasperated sound and turned to look out the window but said nothing. They remained silent for the remainder of the journey, staring out the windows at the familiar sights of London. It felt good to be in each other's company and they took comfort from the knowledge that they were together, even if only for a brief time.

"We're here, Sir Harry," Mike said a little while later and got out of the car. He held the door open for his boss. "Good night, Sir."

"Good night, Mike," Harry replied in a weary voice.

"Good night, Mike," Ruth echoed as she too got out of the car.

"Good night, Ms Ruth," replied a surprised Mike, though he hid it quite well.

"Ruth, what are you doing?"

"I'm inviting myself in for a cup of tea, Harry."

"Ruth, I'm in no mood for games or company tonight."

"I know that, Harry," she said gently. "No games, I promise... But we both need a friend after... after Ros." Her voice quivered as she said her name and Mike found himself hoping that Sir Harry would accept her offer.

Harry didn't say anything, merely turned and began to walk toward the house. Ruth nodded at Mike and he smiled back, grateful that Sir Harry had someone to look out for him. Mike admired and respected his boss and had seen the toll his work had taken on him over the last few years first hand. Lately he'd noticed an improvement in his manner, the way he walked and talked, and there were fewer worry lines on his face, but all that had changed two days ago after that bomb at the hotel. Now Sir Harry walked as if the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders. The last two nights he'd driven him home at three in the morning, and he was sure that Sir Harry was up at the crack of dawn as usual. He doubted that he'd got any sleep. At least today he was home at a reasonable hour.

Ruth followed Harry into the house and watched as he disabled the alarm and shrugged off his coat, hanging it up and pulling off his shoes. She copied his motions and followed him into the sitting room.

"Drink," he asked as he loosened his tie and picked up the decanter to pour himself a large measure of single malt.

"All right; just a very small one," she replied.

He looked up at her startled as if seeing her for the first time. She was almost six months pregnant now and showing beautifully. His eyes softened and he sighed, "I'm sorry, Ruth. I forgot."

She took a step forward and shook her head, "Don't be. You've had a lot on your mind. We all have."

He nodded and poured her a tiny amount of whiskey before holding out the glass for her.

"Thank you," she murmured as she took it from his hand, letting their fingers brush against each other briefly, craving the physical contact between them if only for a second. "To Ros."

"Ros," he repeated as they raised their glasses and took a sip of the amber liquid, though in Harry's case it was more of a gulp.

Ruth made her way over to the sofa and took a seat, but Harry turned toward the window and looked out into the stillness of his back garden. The sounds of the city intruded every so often into their cocoon of silence, a car starting, the hoot of a horn, the occasional bark of a dog. Suddenly Ruth realized what was missing. "Where's Scarlet?" she asked.

"With Wes Carter," Harry replied. Ruth was surprised by this but said nothing more. As if sensing her unspoken question, however, Harry continued, "I left her with him after Adam... He always liked dogs, and Scarlet was getting on in years and I wasn't home enough for her. It seemed like the right thing to do for both of them."

Ruth smiled softly at his back, marvelling at how sweet a man he was at times. It always surprised her that a man in his profession could be so soft hearted at his core. It was one of the contradictions in his character that had ignited and now held her interest in him, and strengthened her love for him.

Her quiet reverie had lasted too long for a response to seem appropriate, so she didn't reply to his statement. Instead she said, "I never liked Ros, you know." He didn't say anything, but a subtle change in his posture told her that he was surprised by her opening remark and was waiting for her to continue. "She was always so... distant. With Zoe, Sam, or Jo, I could talk about things, relationships, films... you know, things. But Ros was different. Then after I left, I actually hated her for some time. Of course, not as much as Oliver Mace, but she was a close second. It took me a while to let go of that anger and sense of betrayal. I realized eventually that, even if Ros hadn't done what she did in her anger against you, Mace would have found another way to use me to get to you. I was an easy target, and eventually, I accepted that maybe I had suffered the lesser of the evils that Oliver Mace could inflict."

She paused here and waited to see if Harry would say anything. When he remained silent, sipping his drink, and still staring out of the window, she continued. "All that changed recently though. In the last few months, I felt a real connection to Ros. It was strange; I felt as if she'd finally accepted my importance to you and vis versa, and she was making an effort to forge some kind of a bond between us. And she was particularly taken with our baby. The other day I felt it move, and without thinking, I grabbed Ros's hand and put it on my stomach. After I realized what I'd done, I let her hand go and mumbled an apology, but she just smiled and kept her hand there until the baby stopped kicking. Then she said that she thought it was going to be a girl and that I need to make sure that she turns out as strong as all the women of section D."

Harry made a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a sob, and Ruth felt tears spring to her eyes and begin to slide down her cheeks at the memory. "But I think, now I can safely say, that she was your brightest and your best, Harry. She had the intensity, the dedication of Tom, but she was stronger than him and stronger than Adam. She was much more like you; able to put the personal aside for the greater good, like you do time and again. I know from speaking with Jo that you and Ros had a connection that was strong, forged in battle, and I could never understand it. But I can see now that, though you have worked with many fine officers over the years, she was much more than just your Section Chief; she was like family to you." She could see that Harry was fighting hard to retain his composure at this point and, even though her own voice was steady as she spoke, tears were streaming down her face freely.

She stood up and approached him, placing her hand on his shoulder gently before murmuring, "You need to grieve, Harry. You need to grieve the loss of your lieutenant, the brightest of your brightest, the best of your best. The one who could have replaced you when you retired and done an admirable job." Then she felt it. His shoulders began to shake as the silent sobs wracked his body, and she cried with him for the lost of a fine officer and a friend as she rubbed a comforting hand across his shoulders.


	13. Chapter 13

_Same day, 8th June, 11:30 pm_

Harry wiped the tears away roughly and squared his shoulders, causing Ruth to pull her hand away. He missed her touch immediately, and not for the first time, wished that he could pull her close and never let her go. He cleared his throat instead, and turning to face her, he murmured, "I'm sor-"

But he never got to finish his sentence as her finger pressed gently across his lips to silence him. "You apologize too much, Harry." She smiled at him despite the tears that were shimmering in her eyes. He held her gaze for long moments as he waged an internal battle against his desire to pull her into his arms, his self-control rapidly slipping away. His lips moved gently in a motion reminiscent of a kiss and she suddenly realized that her finger was still pressing lightly against them. She lowered her hand slowly to her side and cleared her throat. "Now, when's the last time you slept?" she asked. He shrugged. "I thought as much. You should go to bed, Harry."

When he didn't move, she reached for his hand and took the empty tumbler out of it, placing it on the table, and taking his hand in hers, she began to lead him to the stairs. He followed her mutely, exhausted from three days of working without sleep and the recent release of his pent up emotions.

Once inside his bedroom, Ruth said, "Go have a hot shower, Harry, and then I promise to give you a demonstration of one of my many hidden talents."

He turned to her, startled by her statement, and murmured, "Ruth, I don't think that's-"

"Harry!" she exclaimed in exasperation as it became obvious where his thoughts had headed, "I am _not_ talking about sex!" Then seeing the flash of pain in his eyes despite the astonished expression on his face at her mention of the word sex, she added gently as she lowered her eyes to look at her hands, "Not that it wouldn't be nice if we..." She cleared her throat and looked up at him again. He was staring at her in surprise and there was a warmth in his gaze that hadn't been there a moment ago. She wondered briefly how he could not be aware of how much she wanted him, and she had to fight down the urge to tell him all the hopes she entertained for their future together. Knowing that he was exhausted right now and so this really wasn't the right time for that, she forced herself to continue. "I was referring to a back rub. You're dead on your feet, Harry, and I'm going to take care of you, just like you took care of me and our little one over the last two days by sending me home to rest despite my protests. So be a good boy now and go have that shower." She was relieved to see a small smile appear on his lips.

"Nobody's called me a boy in a _very_ long time, Ruth," he said as he shrugged off his jacket and slipped off his tie.

"That's because they don't know you as well as I do," she smiled and took his jacket and tie from his hands before turning away from him toward the wardrobe to hang them up. "Sometimes, Harry, you act a lot like one."

"And you're an expert, are you, Ruth?"

"No, though I did have one for a year or so," she murmured quietly, "and I can tell you that he also didn't understand the importance of good night's sleep, and if I'd let him, he'd have been up all night, every night reading." She turned back toward him and noticed him watching her with a look of regret on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn't let him. "Don't apologize, Harry. What happened, happened and all we can do is try to deal with it and move on. Now, stop stalling, and get in that shower. I'm going downstairs to get my bag."

So while Harry was in the bathroom, Ruth went back downstairs, and after using the bathroom to wash away the remaining traces of her tears, she entered the kitchen to get a bowl and see what oil she could find. She was pleasantly surprised to find a small bottle of olive oil. She poured some oil into the bowl and carried it upstairs along with her bag. She was just turning down the covers when Harry re-entered the room. Ruth smiled at him and moved out of his way as he got into bed and lay down.

"Now take your shirt off and roll over," she murmured and when she saw him about to protest she added with a smile, "I promise to behave like a perfect lady and not take advantage of you, Sir Harry." He sighed, and removing his t-shirt, he lay down on his stomach.

Gently Ruth rubbed oil onto his back and began to massage the tension from the muscles in his shoulders, very much enjoying having the opportunity to touch him like this. Giving Harry a massage had been a fantasy she'd entertained for many years now, and of course in her fantasies, the massage always progressed into something much more enjoyable for both of them.

Feeling the desire begin to bubble up inside her, she made an effort to reign in her wondering thoughts and said, "Bloody hell, Harry. No wonder you can't sleep. There are so many knots here that I'll need a whole troop of scouts to help me unravel them."

He chuckled lightly and then moaned in pleasure as she began to work on him in earnest, putting to use the massage skills she'd learned in Cyprus at the hospital where she'd worked. She'd been a little bored, to tell the truth, in her simple, elegant life after a while, and she'd taken classes in healing during her free time; massage, Aromatherapy and Reflexology to be precise.

"You're right, Ruth," he murmured after a few minutes. "This is some hidden talent you have, though I fear that no one will take me seriously tomorrow when I turn up at work smelling of roses."

"Lavender, Harry," she smiled, "to help you relax and sleep. And don't worry, by tomorrow the smell will have dissipated. Though personally, I think that the great Harry Pearce could turn up smelling of a veritable garden of flowers, and no one would dare bat an eyelid let alone refuse to take him seriously."

"You're good for my ego, Ruth."

"Right now, I'm trying to be good for your health, Harry, so shut up and go to sleep."

"Yes, Mum."

Ruth chuckled. "That's more like it," she said and saw him smile.

Though Ruth's touch had served to make Harry more tense initially and he'd had some difficulty in controlling his desire to turn around and kiss her senseless, he had slowly began to relax as her fingers expertly probed his tense muscles, and by the time Ruth had finished massaging his shoulders and back, he'd succumb to his fatigue and fallen asleep. Gently she pushed the covers over him and began to massage his feet, paying careful attention to all the areas she learned about in her Reflexology class, especially those in which there was tension.

When she completed her task, she was exhausted but satisfied that she had helped him relax and get some much needed rest. She lay down next to him on top of the covers and watched him sleep for a few minutes. It was wonderful to have the opportunity to study his face without being under the scrutiny of his keen, hazel eyes. His was not a particularly handsome face, but it was one she loved so dearly. As she lay there studying his features, she realized that it would be quite something to have the opportunity to do this every night, and she found herself fervently hoping that, one day soon, she would.


	14. Chapter 14

_Early next morning, 9th June, 5 am_

Harry opened his eyes to find Ruth pressed up against him and whimpering in her sleep. She was also shivering. "Ruth?" he said softly and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Her skin was cold and he suddenly realized that she was lying on top of the covers and must be freezing. He sat up and swore when the covers fell away and the cold air wrapped itself around his naked torso. Reaching over to the bedside table, he grabbed the t-shirt that he'd discarded yesterday and pulled it on before shaking Ruth's shoulder, saying, "Ruth, wake up. You're freezing."

She opened her eyes slowly and gave him a warm, sleepy smile. "Harry," she breathed.

For a moment, he remained frozen on the spot by the warmth of her gaze. She was pleased to see him and for a few glorious seconds his heart soared. There was no panic, no fear, no regret in her eyes, just pleasure and love. His emotions in that moment were so intense that he felt tears spring to his eyes. He swallowed hard and wiped swiftly at his eyes with his fingers and thumb. Then he felt her shiver again.

"What are you doing on my bed outside the covers, Ruth?" he demanded gruffly.

"What?" she replied, suddenly wide awake, and sat up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I must have dozed off. I'll call a cab and go home."

"You will do no such thing. Get under the covers, Ruth. You're going to catch your death."

"No, Harry. I'm fine. I'll-"

"_Ruth_," he warned as he began to loose his patience with her. Why did every single thing have to be such a battle with this woman? "I am not about to let you leave this house this early in the morning when you're already shivering. It isn't good for you and it certainly isn't good for the baby. Get under the covers." She opened her mouth to protest but before she could say anything he growled, "That's an order, Ruth."

"An order?" she demanded as her eyes flashed in indignation, "Harry, you have _no_ right-"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, you stubborn..." He paused. They stared at each other for a moment as both of their thoughts drifted back to the last time Harry had called her stubborn. Almost simultaneously, their gazes softened and the corners of Ruth's mouth began to twitch.

"Old mule?" Ruth couldn't resist asking with a mischievous grin.

He sighed. "Ruth, you are by far the most stubborn human being I have ever encountered, and quite frankly, I think that, were you to conduct a proper scientific analysis on the subject, you would find that you are, at the very least, ten times more stubborn than any mule on this earth. Now stop fussing and arguing, woman, and _please_ get under the covers right _now!_"

Ruth stared at him for a moment, a smile still playing on her lips, and then slid into bed next to him saying, "Well at least you remembered the magic word this time, Harry, though, between you and me, you need to work on the tone of your voice when you employ it in your speech."

"Ruth, I swear, if you don't stop quibbling, I am going to have you disciplined for insubordination," he said in exasperation at he pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. It was too early in the morning for verbal sparing, especially since he was still in bed. On the Grid he could handle it, but here was his space, his domain, his sanctuary, his bloody castle.

"Mmmm," Ruth suddenly grinned. "That sounds like fun. Is that something that can be done in bed?"

There was a short silence as Harry recovered from the shock of Ruth being so blatantly provocative and the surprise of finding his body responding quite rapidly to the provocation. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm his breathing, which had suddenly become much shallower. Still reeling from the sudden shift in Ruth's demeanour from argumentative to outrageously flirtatious, he swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Okay, who the hell are you and what have you done with Ruth Evershed?" he asked in an attempt to diffuse the situation. She chuckled and rubbed her hands up and down her arms to warm up. She shivered a little and Harry's gaze softened as concern for her flooded his mind once more, pushing aside everything else. He cleared his throat again, and throwing caution to the wind, he said tentatively, "You'd warm up quicker if we... er... if we shared body heat."

She looked at him seriously for a moment, watching him squirm under her gaze and wondering how many people could claim to have the power to make the legendary Harry Pearce squirm. Probably less than a handful, she decided before she relented and smiled. "Is this part of the discipline you seem to think necessary?"

He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands as he took a couple of deep breaths, before he lowered his hands once more and replied, "Just... shut up and come here." Then without stopping to think about it, he lay down, pulled her into his embrace, and began to rub her back in gentle, comforting circles. She nestled her face into his neck, resting her head on his arm, and folded her hands and arms between them.

"This is nice," she murmured.

As they lay cocooned together under the duvet, Ruth hummed in satisfaction as his warmth seeped through her and his smell enveloped her. Lying in his arms like this was bliss, she decided and was momentarily tempted to seduce him, feeling certain that she would succeed quite easily this time. However as the seconds ticked by, she became aware of just how tired she truly was. She hadn't been sleeping well since Ros had died, and having Harry's arms around her was making her feel safe, loved, protected, and extremely drowsy all of a sudden.

"Ruth?" he murmured a few moments later.

"Mmmm?" she replied sleepily.

"Nothing," he answered when he realized that she was almost asleep. "It's nothing. Go to sleep."

She made a soft humming sound and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Harry held her close but couldn't sleep. In fact, Ruth's words were bouncing around in his head and in combination with her physical proximity were making him more and more aroused by the second. Desperately he sought for something, anything to take his mind off Ruth, but all his attempts failed. At least her baby bump was large enough by now to keep their pelvic areas well apart, he thought as his physical response intensified. Soon he wouldn't be able to hold back, he realized, and despite the fact that after her admission last night and her shameless flirting just now, he knew she would welcome his advances, she was obviously exhausted and she needed rest. It occurred to him that she had probably not been sleeping well either over the past few days, and he silently berated himself for not taking better care of her. With a pang he suddenly remembered that she wasn't his to take care of, and he wondered if now that they had made so much progress and had grown so close, closer than he'd ever dared hope, she would consider being with him, together, as a couple. Certainly the way she had taken care of him last night was a strong indication that she would, but he couldn't be certain unless he talked to her first. Soon, he promised himself, soon he would ask her and they would talk. So with one last attempt at self-control, he began to extract himself from bed.

He almost managed to work his way out without waking her, but at the last moment, she rolled toward him, and with her eyes still closed, she murmured sleepily, "Stay, Harry. Don't go."

He swallowed and replied in a slightly strained, husky voice, "I have to, Ruth. I have to go to work. Go back to sleep."

She whimpered once in protest, but then murmured, "Okay," and pulled the covers tighter around herself. He smiled down at her, indulging his desire to watch her for a few moments before he turned toward the bathroom. He was almost there when he heard her mumble, "love you." He froze, and then as if in slow motion, he slowly turned around to face her, but her eyes were closed and she was sleeping.

He gazed at her longingly for several moments, fighting his desire to go back to bed, curl up into her warmth, and never leave. "I love you too," he whispered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks once again for the wonderful reviews. Some of the dialogue bellow you will recognise from Spooks. I'm still trying to loosely follow the original series, so I hope the following works all right. Cheers, S.C. **

* * *

_One week later, 15th June, 2 pm_

"I have something to tell you," she said.

"And I you. A turn around the grounds?"

They walked around the churchyard enjoying the sunshine despite the sorrow of the occasion. Eventually they came to stand near a fence overlooking a park. Ruth gazed across the landscape as Harry stood by her side, his body turned toward her. "I feel like she's trying to tell us something," Ruth said quietly. "Like this was what was missing from her life." Harry nodded slightly and leant in closer.

As she gazed out over the beautiful, English landscape before her, she came to a realization. It wasn't an epiphany because she'd been thinking about it for several months now, working through the many barriers she'd erected to protect herself over the years, learning to deal with the guilt she carried with her, some of it since childhood, and facing her fears, regrets and desires for the future. But right here, right now, everything came together in her mind, and she suddenly knew what she wanted, part of what she wanted, or at least exactly what she didn't want any more.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. "I can't do this any more, Harry," she said. Her words cut through him like a knife and he moved his body slowly away from her; so slowly that she didn't notice. "I'm handing in my notice," she continued. "I'll work until my maternity leave and then I'd like to be decommissioned." He was completely lost for words. Ruth was leaving him _again_. She turned to look at him and noticed his serious expression for the first time, but she couldn't read his face. His eyes, normally so expressive, so open to her, were closed off and it alarmed her. "Harry, please, say something," she pleaded, realizing belatedly that she should have told him this at another time, not right after the funeral of his Section Chief. She knew how much he relied on her at work and how hard it would be for him to replace her as well as Ros.

"Well, Ruth," he replied in a steady, controlled voice. "There doesn't appear to be a lot for me to say. It seems you've made your decision."

"I don't want to live in this world any more, Harry," she tried to explain. "I don't want to loose any more colleagues, any more friends. I don't want to have to hire a nanny so that I can work all hours of the day and night and miss so many moments of our child's life. I want a normal, simple life again. Especially now that I will have someone waiting for me at home at the end of each day."

Harry nodded. He understood, of course he understood, but that didn't make it any easier. He should have expected this, he told himself. Only a career woman would give up staying with her child to work all hours of the day and night and put herself, and possibly her child, in harms way in the process. Ruth had never been interested in her career. That fact that she had remained in her present position without seeking promotion for so long made this perfectly obvious. He wiped a weary hand over his eyes. Dear God, the pain. Just when he'd allowed himself to hope once more, to dream of a life with her, with their child, together. It seemed like he was destined to never get it right with Ruth, this woman that he loved so completely.

"I understand, Ruth," he murmured. "I'll-" He was interrupted by his phone ringing. He fished it out of this pocket and looked at the caller ID. "Yes?" he answered. "No... Are you sure? I'll be right there." He ended the call and turned back to Ruth. "We're needed on the grid... I'll take care of your decommissioning when the time comes."

He turned to leave but her next words called him back. "Harry, there's something else."

"Ruth-" he began to object but she interrupted him.

"It's about Nightingale. Nightingale conspirators." She dug in her bag and produced a folder. "They buried their trails deeper than I've ever seen, but last night we came up with something." She opened the folder and showed it to him. Harry was incredulous as he looked at the photograph of the former Home Secretary. He glanced from the photo to Ruth and back again. "He was part of the inner circle, Harry," Ruth said. "He gave the order to bomb the hotel."

"But," Harry stammered, "they smeared him. They forced him to resign."

"It was a smoke screen. Everything's in there," she nodded at the folder.

Harry couldn't believe it. He felt nauseous. First Ros's death, then Ruth's loss, and now _this_. He grabbed the railing with his hands and squeezed it until his knuckles turned white. Despair washed over him and he began to breath hard with the strain of it all. "Ever feel like you just can't go on, Ruth," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Can't go on; must go on," Ruth replied sadly, knowing that now wasn't the time to point out that that's exactly why she wanted to leave MI-5.

* * *

_Next day, 16th June, 11:30 pm_

"Ruth?" he said as he shook her shoulder.

"Mmmm?" she murmured as she woke.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, walking over to his decanter and pouring himself a drink. He was going to need it.

"Oh, Harry," she said, sitting up abruptly. "I wanted to talk to you, but you weren't in, and I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I waited for you on your doorstep."

"So you thought I'd prefer it if you broke into my house instead?" he asked a little harshly.

"Technically, it wasn't breaking in since I used the key that you gave me last week," she bristled. "Anyway, since you generally seem to take an interest in my well-being and it's cold at this time of night, I thought you wouldn't mind. Obviously, I was wrong."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "What do you want, Ruth? Couldn't it have waited until the morning?"

"No, Harry. It couldn't. Yesterday, I said something that I realized might have given you the wrong impression and I wanted to set things straight, but you've been avoiding me." He didn't deny it; he had been avoiding her. "I want to leave the-"

"Yes, I know, Ruth. You've already made it perfectly clear that you want to leave. Now, would you please go home and let me get some much needed rest?" he snapped.

"Harry! Don't interrupt. Let me finish," she said reproachfully.

"I don't want to hear it again, Ruth. Once was enough," he whispered as he turned away from her.

She pretended she hadn't heard and said, "I want to leave the service with _you_."

His drink paused on its way to his mouth and his heart skipped a beat before it started to hammer rapidly against his chest. Slowly he lowered the glass and turned to face her.

"I don't want to leave _you_, Harry. I want to leave the service. That's not the same thing. I want a life with you... and our child... together."

He was breathing heavily now with the strain of keeping himself together. The hope that had all but been extinguished yesterday was blossoming in his chest and he found it hard to breath. "Are you sure, Ruth?" he asked quietly after a moment. "Are you _really_ sure?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I've always wanted a life with you, Harry. I may not have known quite how to go about getting it, but I've always wanted you." She took a few steps forward and stopped in front of him. Gently she took the tumbler out of his hand and placed it on the table before looking up at his face again and meeting his gaze with her own. "It wasn't regret, Harry. Panic and fear, yes, but I could never regret begin with you, making love with you. If anything, I remember feeling disappointed that I had spent a night in your bed and couldn't remember it. I was scared because I thought I wasn't ready for us to be together, that the anger and guilt I felt would always come between us. I was scared we'd spoilt everything by moving too fast. But after some time, I realized that it was stupid to think that, and that what I _really_ wanted and needed was more of you. But by then, it was too late; you wouldn't trust me to know my own mind." She took his hands in hers and squeezed them gently. "I _do_ know my own mind. I _do _know what I want and need. It's you. I love you... with all my heart, Harry."


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm attempting to keep this T-rated, though I might be persuaded to moving it up to an M rated piece a little later on. I hope the following is okay. S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Same night, 17th June, 12 am_

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words to express what he was feeling. Tears glistened in his eyes as he was overcome by emotion, and a single tear rolled down his cheek as he gazed at her. He lifted his hands to cup her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks lovingly, and she smiled, flashing her dimples at him and making her eyes sparkle. He grinned back at her in response, for once allowing the euphoria he was experiencing to clearly show on his face. They gazed into each other's eyes, drinking each other in for long minutes, overcome by happiness.

"Is that a yes then?" Ruth asked playfully after a moment.

"Yes, Ruth, yes. Always," he whispered.

"Good," she replied and moved closer, causing his hands to slip down to her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. His arms slid round her and pulled her close as he buried his face in her neck and began to kiss her warm skin repeatedly. "Harry," she sighed as she melted into his embrace.

They stood wrapped together in the middle of Harry's sitting room, relishing the moment for which they'd both waited so long.

"Harry?" she murmured eventually.

"Yes?"

"Did you really think that I was going to leave you again?" He didn't answer, but she felt his head move as he nodded slightly. "Oh, Harry," she sighed. "We are hopeless, aren't we?"

He chuckled at that and murmured, "No, Ruth. Not hopeless."

"But we are, Harry," she protested, pulling back to look at him. "It never even occurred to me that you might think I wanted to leave _you_. After all we went through last time we were apart..." She sighed. "I thought you knew how I felt about you. We'd been getting so close lately, and though we hadn't had the opportunity to talk properly, I-"

"Ruth," he interrupted gently. "I give you my word that I will never again assume that you want to leave me, that you do not want to be with me, or that you do not love me. Okay?" She nodded as a smile spread slowly across her lips. Then he added, "but that means that, if you ever do want me to sod off, you're going to have to spell it out."

"It's a deal," she chuckled. "And I in turn promise the same, and I also promise that I will endeavour to spell _everything_ out, so that we don't have any more misunderstandings. Okay?"

"Yes, Ruth," he smiled and kissed her forehead tenderly.

She put her head back on his shoulder and sighed in contentment. After a bit she said, "I'm tired, Harry. Let's go to bed?"

"An excellent idea, Ruth." He released her slowly and stepped back, letting his hands rest on her waist and smiling into her eyes. "You go on up while I just lock up the house."

"All right," she nodded and turned to go upstairs, but his hands held her fast. She looked into his eyes again and saw that look; the look that told her he wanted to kiss her. She waited but he didn't move, so she lent in until her baby bump was touching his abdomen. "You can, you know," she murmured. "Any time you want to. I'll never say no, or run away again."

"Never is a long time, Ruth," he whispered.

She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. "Then you must be one of the luckiest men on earth," she said.

"Oh, believe me. I _know _I am," he murmured and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers and sliding his fingers into her hair, cradling her head in his hands and sensually running his thumbs along her jaw. Their kiss was tender, and gentle, and filled with wonder. They'd waited so long for this moment and they were both determined to savour it; not a goodbye kiss this time, nor a frantic coupling in a drunken haze, but the beginning of something exceptional and wonderful.

Soon their initial awe and need for tenderness and closeness had been satisfied, and their kiss progressed into something more as their mouths opened and they lips and tongues melded together in an intense display of love and passion.

"I've changed my mind," she breathed when they finally pulled apart. "I'm not tired after all."

"No?" he asked huskily. "What a coincidence, neither am I."

He moved to kiss her again but she pushed him away, saying, "If you do that again, Harry, we're not going to make it up to bed."

"Is that a promise?" he teased, his voice a low purr.

"No, Harry. Just a fact," she replied.

He paused, seemingly to ponder her words. Then a slow, sexy smile spread across his lips and he whispered, "I think I can still manage to put the furniture downstairs to good use if you think you'll be comfortable enough."

She smiled, and lifting her hand to his face, she stroked his cheek lovingly as she murmured, "Ever the gentleman, eh, Harry?" Then she slid her hand behind his neck and pulled him down toward her.

Their lips met in a hot, demanding kiss, and Harry found himself moving backward as Ruth manoeuvred him toward the sofa. They broke apart for air and Ruth swiftly removed her top and bra, dropping them both on the coffee table. His eyes dropped hungrily to her chest, exploring the contours of her full breasts and tracing the outline of her baby bump. She was beautiful. Gently, reverently, he lifted his hands to touch her, gliding over her abdomen in awe as the realization that his child was inside her finally hit home. It was one thing to know it and quite another to see it with his own eyes. He looked up at her face and saw her timid smile. "You're beautiful," he whispered. "Breathtakingly beautiful." He lowered his eyes once more as his hands moved up to cup her breasts. "Beautiful," he murmured again.

She made a noise, a cross between a sigh and a moan, as he lifted her breasts in his hands and then whispered self-consciously, "They're not normally this large."

"I know," he murmured. "I remember."

"You do?" she asked startled by this revelation.

"Not everything, but some things I have clear pictures of in my head."

"Like what?"

"Your breasts. They fit perfectly in my hands and tasted like cream," he murmured as he bent his head down to press his lips against her. "And when I did this," he slid his tongue across her skin to illustrate, making her moan in pleasure, "you moaned just like that."

"What else?" she asked breathlessly.

"Your eyes... They were a deep, deep blue," he whispered as he lifted his gaze to hers. "I'd never seen them turn that colour before... like sapphires."

"What else do you remember?"

"That I wanted you so much that I couldn't even wait to pull all my clothes off," he confessed as his pupils dilated with desire and an expression of lust settled on his features.

"Right now, I can't wait either," she replied breathlessly moments before he pulled her against his chest and his lips found hers once more.

* * *

_Next morning, 17th June, 6 am_

She opened her eyes and found him watching her, his hazel eyes sparkling in pleasure. She smiled in delight, but then she was momentarily overcome with shyness at waking up next to him like this, in his bed, naked. Last time the shock had completely overwhelmed her and she hadn't had time to feel anything but panic. This time, however, she had time to feel both awkward and embarrassed. She pulled the covers closer and watched him for a moment. This was the happiest she'd ever seen him, she realized, and it warmed her heart, making her overcome her initial timidity. She smiled and shifted closer to him. He lifted his arm in invitation and she put her head on his shoulder, pressing her face against his chest, inhaling his scent, and humming contentedly.

"Good morning," he murmured as he slid his arm round her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Morning," she mumbled into his chest, cuddling closer to him. "You're so warm," she sighed.

"I'm glad I have my uses, Ruth," he smiled and pressed another kiss to her hair.

"Is it time to get up yet?" she asked.

"Not quite. We have quarter of an hour."

"Good."

There was a short silence as they held each other close. He began to move his hand across her back, stroking her skin in gentle, relaxing circles. Her right hand was trapped between their bodies, but her left was resting gently against his side. Plucking up her courage, she began to stroke his side and then his abdomen, surprised by how soft and smooth his skin was. He hummed contentedly, making her smile and encouraging her to continue with her gentle caresses.

"You know, I've missed the weather in Cyprus every single morning until right now," she said after a bit.

His hand paused in it's journey across her back and he asked tentatively, "Why not now?"

"Because it isn't cold in bed with you here," she answered.

Smiling, he kissed her hair again, but made no comment.

They lay quietly a little longer until Harry said, "Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you talk me out of resigning yesterday if you wanted us to leave the service together?"

She lifted her head and raised herself up on her right elbow to look at him before replying, "Because that wasn't the right time for you to leave and you would have regretted it later. It would have eaten away at you and spoilt everything. You're grieving, Harry. You're not yourself yet. Give yourself time, and when you're truly ready to leave, you'll know." He nodded and she smiled at him.

His eyes skimmed lovingly over her face for a moment and then ventured lower, unable to resist the temptation to look at her chest when it was so tantalisingly close and on display as she lay on her right side, propping herself up on her elbow. She blushed under his scrutiny and quickly lay back down with her head on his shoulder.

He smiled at her embarrassment, especially as it was in such stark contrast to the way she'd stripped in front of him last night. "You're beautiful," he murmured quietly and kissed the top of her head.

Pressing a kiss against his chest in thanks, she sighed contentedly. They resumed their slow caresses like before, slowly getting bolder as they began to let their hands stray and explore the contours of each other's bodies. Ruth slid her hand round to stroke his lower back and moved a little closer until their bellies were pressed together. Harry responded by letting his hand stray lower as he stroked her back, skimming the top of her buttocks, and sliding one leg between hers to massage her calf with his foot.

"You smell good," Ruth observed presently as she inhaled deeply.

He chuckled and murmured, "No one's ever accused me of smelling good _before_ I have a shower, Ruth."

"Love will do strange things to a person, Harry," she smiled into his chest. "One of the things I missed most when I was away was your smell. I missed all of you, but particularly your smell... and your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes," she added as she tilted her head to look at them. They were a deep, dark hazel this morning with emerald coloured flecks shining around the edges and love shimmering in their depths.


	17. Chapter 17

_Same day, 17th June, 11 am_

"I have some paperwork for you to sign," Ruth said as she walked into his office. Harry looked up from his computer and smiled as she placed the folders on his desk. "That's not normally something that elicits a smile from you, Harry," she teased lightly.

He chuckled and replied, "You could bring me news of a bomb in the centre of London today, Ruth, and I might still find it hard not to smile when I see you." She blushed and looked down at her hands, her body language suddenly changing. Harry felt his smile dissolve and his stomach drop. "You're having second thoughts," he stated, remembering their promise to endeavour to be more open with each other.

"What? No!" she looked up alarmed and he felt able to breath again.

"What is it then?" he asked calmly as he got up and slowly walked round his desk toward her.

"I... um..." she hesitated, turning to face him as he approached.

"Just say it, Ruth," he encouraged as he stopped in front of her. "As long as you haven't changed your mind, it can't be that bad."

"I don't want to move too fast," she murmured, looking down at her hands again. "I mean, I know I said that I want-"

She felt his hand on hers and looked up at his face to find his captivating, hazel eyes looking at her softly. "We'll start with a few dates, Ruth," he reassured. "We could go for a walk, dinner, or even to see a film or a play. Then maybe we could share a meal or two at my place or yours. We'll go slow. We don't need to move in together tomorrow."

She nodded as her clear, blue eyes thanked him silently for understanding. Then she opened her hand and in it was the key to his house. "Did you put this back in my bag this morning? Because I'm sure I left it on the kitchen counter last night."

So that was where this anxiety was coming from. "Yes," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I should have explained. It's yours, Ruth. I wanted you to have it so that you can use it when you're ready. Not now, not tomorrow, just when you're ready." He paused and then admitted quietly, "It would mean the world to me if one day I came home to find you already there. I rather enjoy it when you break into my house." She smiled at that, and taking her hand in his, he pressed it closed around his key. "Please, keep it."

She nodded and sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. I make things so difficult-"

"No, Ruth. Not difficult. You like to analyse everything and you're cautious. That's a good thing. And believe me, I understand that because I am your boss – at least for a little while longer - this relationship affects all areas of your life, personal and professional, making it much harder for you. It's okay. I don't mind how much time it takes, and as long as I get what I want in the end, I can wait. I'm a patient man, Ruth, and _you_ are worth the wait."

* * *

_Almost one month later, 10th July, 1 pm_

"Have you thought of names?" she asked.

"Some," he answered. "You?"

"Lots. In fact my trouble is narrowing it down. Tell me which ones you like."

"For a boy, I thought Ben, after... after my brother, or Adam, after... well, you know." He cleared his throat. "And for a girl, Fiona, after my mother, or I quite like Sophie."

"I like Sophie," she nodded. "It means wisdom."

"Yes," he nodded. "A very good quality for our daughter to have; she's going to need it."

Ruth smiled as a picture of Harry holding their baby daughter filled her mind.

"Ruth?" he said after a moment.

"Mmmm?" she answered absently.

"Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, yes, fine," she replied focusing once more on his face. "Sorry, I was miles away."

"Yes, I could see that," he smiled. "Somewhere pleasant?"

"Very," she murmured. "I was thinking about our baby."

He nodded and they both turned back to their food, very much enjoying being in each other's company. They didn't get to eat lunch together nearly as much as they wished what with all the meetings Harry had to attend and other work related things getting in the way.

"What do you think of Juliet?" she asked after a bit with a mischievous grin and burst out laughing at the look on his face.

"That isn't funny, Ruth," he growled and then added, "in fact, I think it might be wise if we avoided any names beginning with jay. It appears to be a very unlucky letter for me where women are concerned."

Ruth laughed. "Okay, no jay names for girls, though I did like the idea of naming her Joanna after Jo." Harry nodded but made no comment, so Ruth moved on, saying, "What do you think of Helen?"

"No," he stated firmly.

"Why not?" she asked with interest, surprised at the hardness in his voice.

He didn't answer immediately, but eventually he murmured, "I knew someone with that name once, a long time ago. She was an asset and things got... I had to burn her." There was a lot more to this story and he knew that this was his opportunity to come clean, to tell her about the boy, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now when he'd had a taste of life with Ruth and when he knew that this was one of the secrets from his past that might destroy them. He couldn't bear that, so he kept quiet, silently berating himself for being a coward.

She tilted her head to the side and studied him for a moment. This Helen must have been important to him at some point, she concluded based on his body language and reluctance to talk about it, perhaps he'd even loved her. Maybe she broke his heart, she thought and felt a stab of anger toward this unknown woman who had hurt him. Whatever had happened in the past with this woman was not simple; she was sure of it, but he didn't want to talk about it so she let it drop, reluctant as she was to spoil their lunch together. Perhaps she would bring it up again some other time. "What about Amie?" she asked.

He nodded and murmured, "I like it. What about boys? Don't you have any male names you like?"

"You mean other than Harry?" she smiled and was pleased to see his expression soften as his lips curled up in a smile.

"Yes," he nodded.

"Well," she replied "I like James, after my father, and Daniel, after Danny." She paused as her thoughts drifted toward her lost loved ones and then said quietly, "We are rather sentimental in our choices, aren't we, Harry?"

"Yes, Ruth," he agreed. "We are."

* * *

_About one month later, 3rd August, 11 pm_

She turned the key in the lock and entered the house, feeling a little nervous. It was the first time since she'd told him that she wanted them to leave the service together that she was entering his house when he wasn't home. But she was ready for this, she told herself as she reset the alarm. Enough time had passed to know that this really could work; she and Harry could work. And she really wanted a life with him, so this was the next step. The step between dating someone and living with them. Leaving some of your things at their house permanently and having the freedom to come and go even when they're not home. She'd brought a key for her house with her tonight to give him when he got home, so that he could have the same freedom in her place. Smiling softly at the thought, she walked into the kitchen and switched on the kettle for tea.


	18. Chapter 18

**I hope you all agree that this can still be rated T... If not, please let me know and I'll change the rating. Cheers, S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Next morning, 4th August, 5 am_

She came round with a start and opened her eyes. They fell on the pair of familiar and beloved hazel eyes belonging to the man lying next to her and she smiled. "Hi," she whispered.

"Hello, yourself," he murmured.

She stretched and lifted her head a little to look past him at the clock. "Oh! It's only five o'clock," she said in surprise. "What time did you get in?"

"Around one," he answered, rolling onto his back. "You were sleeping so I didn't wake you."

She smiled down at him as she propped herself up on one elbow to look at him.

"What?" he asked seeing the twinkle in her eye and the smile on her lips.

"Were you tempted to?" she asked quietly.

"Tempted to what?"

"Wake me."

He blinked. "Yes."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you looked so peaceful and I knew you were tired."

"Next time," she smiled, "wake me if you feel like it."

"Ruth-" he began but was interrupted.

"I've often imagined what it would be like," she murmured, reaching her hand over to him and running her fingers down the front of his chest, watching their slow progress along his body, and delighting in the feel of his solid chest bellow the fabric of his t-shirt and the sudden change in his breathing her touch and words have provoked. "You get in late from work and find me in bed, sleeping. You smile down at me and brush the hair away from my face gently. Then you turn to leave the room to get ready for bed, but just then I sigh and shift in my sleep, rolling over onto my back and pulling the covers with me. You glance back at me and your breath catches in your chest as you notice that my movements have pulled the covers down a little, and you realize that I'm not wearing anything. My right nipple is peaking out from under the duvet, begging to be kissed and licked and sucked. You groan as you struggle against the desire that has been awakened inside you by the sight. Soon you find that you're loosing the battle with your self-control, your self-denial, and before you quite know what you're doing, you're leaning over the bed, over me. Your mouth closes over the rose coloured peak before you can stop yourself, and your right hand slips under the covers to stroke the soft skin of my other breast. I moan-"

His index finger pressed against her lips to silence her and he whispered huskily, "Close your eyes, Ruth. It's night time and you're sleeping."

She smiled and lay back against her pillow, closing her eyes and sighing in satisfaction. "This is my fantasy now, Ruth," she heard him murmur in a deep, resonating voice, and as his hand reached out to caress her skin, she relinquished control and prepared to enjoy it.

* * *

_Same day, 4th August, 6:30 am_

He watched her sleeping next to him, her body curled toward him, one of her hands resting on her protruding stomach protectively, the other cradled in his own. He knew he had to wake her, but he didn't have the heart to do it. So he let her sleep on, telling himself that five minutes more couldn't hurt. They'd woken up at five this morning, but instead of getting up, he'd let Ruth seduce him into spending an hour more in bed, making sweet love to her. And this morning had been especially sweet and wonderful. Wonderful because it had been the first time that she'd used her key to let herself into his house before he got home. Up until last night, they'd been dating, going out or inviting each other over for a meal or a take away, and frequently spending the night together. But last night something had changed. He could feel it. Ruth was ready for more. For all her talk of wanting to be with him, he could tell that she was scared. Perhaps it was because every other attempt they had made to be together had ended in tears, perhaps because she didn't quite trust that his love would last, or perhaps because it was just part of who she was, not being able to stop thinking of the what ifs. But last night, he'd found her asleep in his bed when he'd got home and he'd felt elated. He'd been reluctant to bring up what would happen once she was decommissioned if he was still working. Technically they would not be allowed to see each other, and he hadn't wanted to talk about it lest he spook her and she decided she needed more time. He wanted her by his side now, not at some point in the future after he retired.

"Ruth," he murmured, kissing her cheek softly and stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Mmmm," she protested and tried to roll away from him.

He chuckled lightly and held her in place while he traced kisses along her jaw toward her neck. "Wake up, Ruth. We've got to go to work."

"Bugger work," she mumbled this time and he laughed and rubbed the stubble on his chin against the sensitive skin of her neck. She squealed and tried to push him away. "Harry!" she protested. "Stop it."

He pulled back to look at her and smiled at the grumpy look she was giving him with her stormy blue eyes. He loved the way they changed colour like that. One moment they were a soft, sky blue, the next a stormy blue-grey, and when she was really aroused, brilliant, dark sapphires.

"Two more minutes," she murmured and closed her eyes again. He smiled. Unlike himself, she was certainly not a morning person, he thought. He'd always been an early riser, something he'd been grateful for as it served him well in the army and later as a spy. He was also a light sleeper. Ruth on the other hand slept like a log and was definitely a night owl. Over the past month or so, he'd learned so much more about her and he loved that. There was the way she'd move her fingers through the air or against her thighs, or chest as if playing an invisible piano or violin when she listened to music, the way she'd frown when she watched the news and her eyes would darken and flash when she heard something she didn't like, and the way she'd curl her legs under her when sitting on the sofa reading, or push them up against his thigh as she tried to warm them up. Her feet were nearly always cold he'd discovered, and most of the time, so were her hands. She delighted in pressing them suddenly against his skin to make him jump, and he loved this playful side of her.

"Marry me, Ruth," he whispered.

Her eyes snapped open. "What?" she asked in shock.

"Marry me, Ruth." She just stared at him so he forced himself to continue. "In a few months, you'll be decommissioned and they won't allow us to see each other. I don't want to have to sneak around every night just to see you. I _can_ do it and I _will_ do it, if I have to, but I don't want to. I love you, Ruth. I want to be spend the rest of my life with you and to try my best to make you happy. Marry me, please, so they can't separate us again. We can have a quiet wedding in a registry office with a couple of witnesses, and we needn't tell anyone until you're decommissioned. We don't even need to live together until you're ready. Please, Ruth, think about it. Just think about it. Okay?"

She nodded slowly and murmured, "I'll... I'll think about it, Harry. I promise."

"Good," he smiled.


	19. Chapter 19

_One month later, 1st September, 5 pm_

"I'm off," Ruth announced. "I'm going to miss you all."

Tariq stepped forward and embraced her rather awkwardly as her abdomen was now huge. "Take care, Ruth. I'll miss you. Good luck. I hope everything goes well with the baby."

"Thank you, Tariq. You take care too, all right? Don't work too late."

"I probably will," he grinned.

Ruth smiled, fighting against the tears that were glistening in her eyes.

"Bye, Ruth," Lucas stepped forward to embrace her.

"Take care, Lucas." She wanted to tell him more, to reassure him that he would be fine. She'd noticed the change in him recently after Ros's death and she was really worried for him. But she didn't know how to phrase it, so she said, "I know it's against protocol, but if you ever need a friend, Lucas, I'm always available. You've been through a lot lately."

He looked at her oddly for a second, but then he smiled. "Thanks, Ruth. Good luck with the little one. I'm sure he or she will keep you busy."

Ruth nodded and turned to Beth, the newest member of their team. "Good luck, Beth."

"Thank you, Ruth. You too. Take care of yourself and your family."

"I will."

Beth hugged her and then Ruth turned to Dimitri. "Γειά σου, Δημητράκι," she grinned. It drove him crazy when she called him that. Apparently only his mother still used the diminutive of his name.

He shook his head at her and smiled, "Ruth, τι θα κάνουμε χωρίς εσένα; Εύχομαι να πάνε όλα καλά με τη γέννα και να είναι δυνατό και υγειές το μικρό. We'll miss you, Ruth."

"I'll miss you too. Take care." She hugged him tight and turned to Harry.

"I'll drive you home," he said and picked up the box with her belongings.

She nodded and gazed one more time across the grid, remembering so many different events, so many faces, so many moments shared. Tears filled her eyes, not because she was sad to go, she knew this was the right time, but because she missed them all, Danny, Jo, Zoe, Tom, Colin, Zaf, Adam, Sam, Fiona, Malcolm, Ros... Wiping away her tears she turned to Harry. "Let's go," she said, and waving goodbye to her colleagues for what she anticipated to be the last time, she walked through the pods with Harry at her side.

* * *

_Two weeks earlier, 14th August, 2 pm_

"So what's this about, Ruth?" Harry asked. They were sitting side by side on a their bench gazing out over the water.

"I made my decision this morning and I wanted to give you my answer," she smiled. "I didn't want to do it at the office."

"Your answer to what question?" he frowned.

"The question you asked me almost two weeks ago," she replied and saw the understanding dawn in his eyes. She could read him so well, she suddenly realized, and seeing the anxiety creep into his gaze she spoke quickly, not wanting to be cruel and prolong it unnecessarily. "Yes, Harry. I will marry you," she whispered and watched as disbelief replaced the worry in his eyes and was quickly followed by delight. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words, so he reached over and took her hand in his instead, squeezing it gently. "I thought, if you agree, we could go over to the registry office and give notice today. Then we can be married in a couple of weeks. What do you think?" she said.

He squeezed her hand once more and smiled, his eyes shinning in delight. "Two weeks? That would be... truly wonderful, Ruth."

"And I _would_ like to live with you, Harry... after we are married," she added quietly, looking down at her hands while she spoke and then glancing up at him shyly.

He grinned; he couldn't help it.

* * *

_About one month later, 18th September, 1 pm_

"Hello, Rachel?" Ruth said into the phone.

"Hi, Ruth," the doula answered. "How are you feeling?"

"I think it's started," Ruth murmured apprehensively.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Rachel smiled. "I'll be right over. I should be there in about forty minutes. Just remember to breath through the contractions, and relax your vocal cords. We want nice low notes on the exhale, okay? Call me if you need me, but I'm on my way."

"Okay," Ruth replied and hung up just before the next contraction hit her. Breath through them, she told herself, but it was easier said than done.

* * *

_About three weeks earlier, 26th August, 11 am_

"I, Ruth Evershed, take you, Henry James Pearce, to be my lawful wedded husband, to love, honour, cherish, and protect, forsaking all others and holding only onto you. As a token of this promise, I give you this ring," she repeated after the registrar and took his larger hand in hers, sliding the thin gold band on his ring finger. She smiled up at him and let him take her left hand in his.

"I, Henry James Pearce, take you, Ruth Evershed, to be my lawful wedded wife, to love, honour, cherish, and protect, forsaking all others and holding only onto you. As a token of this promise, I give you this ring," Harry said without waiting to be prompted by the official and slid the gold band on Ruth's ring finger.

"By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the registrar smiled.

Without waiting for permission, Harry leant forward and captured his wife's lips in a long, tender kiss, and when they eventually pulled apart, they both stood gazing at each other, grinning from ear to ear and glowing with happiness.

* * *

**Translation of Greek: "Goodbye, Dimitraki,"... "Ruth, what will we do without you? I hope everything goes well with the birth and that the baby is strong and healthy."**


	20. Chapter 20

**Another almost M-rated piece, but not quite (I hope). For those of you who are groaning in disappointment right now, I promise to write a full M-rated chapter soon, probably after the baby's born. Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_About three weeks later, 18th September, 6 pm_

"You're doing great, Ruth," Rachel smiled, rubbing her hand against Ruth's lower back.

"I don't think I can do this any more," Ruth complained and paused as another contraction forced her to stop speaking.

"That's it, low notes, ahhhhhh," the doula encouraged as she pushed hard against Ruth's lower back.

"How much longer?" she asked breathlessly when it had passed.

"It could be a few more hours yet," Rachel replied giving her a sympathetic look. "Let's walk for a bit."

"Walk?" Ruth asked in surprise.

"Outside. It's a nice day and it'll take your mind off things for a little while," Rachel replied.

Ruth nodded and Rachel helped her into her coat and shoes before they set off for a short walk to the park down the road.

* * *

_Ten days earlier, 8th September, 8 pm_

Harry walked into the house, and after hanging up his coat and placing his keys in the tray on the hall table, he went to look for his wife. He found her sitting on the sofa crying.

"Ruth?" he said as he approached her and sat down next to her. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and reached for him, burying her face in his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her and she continued to sob.

"Ruth, what is it?" he asked worriedly. "Is it our baby? Is something wrong?"

"No," she shook her head.

Feeling very relieved, he held her against his chest, stroking her back in gentle comforting circles as he waited for her tears to stop. It still amazed him at times like this that he was allowed to do this, he was allowed to touch her, hold her, and comfort her. Eventually, Ruth calmed down and lifted her head to look at him. Seeing her tear stained cheeks, he reached over to the coffee table for the tissues and handed her the box.

"Thank you," she said and proceeded to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.

"Why were you crying, Ruth?" he asked after a bit as he stroked her knee with his hand.

"It's everything really. I was feeling a little overwhelmed," she confessed. "I was so bored at home today, Harry, and I missed you. I miss working by your side at the Grid more than I thought I would. And it's such hard work to move around now that I just want it to be over so that I can have my body back. You have no idea how difficult it is to have to share it with someone, even someone you love very much, and especially when that someone keeps kicking you in the ribs or bladder so you have to keep rushing off to the bathroom every five seconds. My back is killing me, my feet are killing me, and I can't sleep properly because I'm so uncomfortable. I'm just so tired of it all and the closer I get to my due date the harder it is to wait, the more impatient I'm getting."

"I'm sorry, Ruth," he said gently as he continued to rub her knee. "Let me run a bath for you," he suggested after a moment.

"That would be nice," she nodded and gave him a small smile.

He got up and kissed her forehead tenderly before leaving the room to go run her bath. He had a quick shower, changing into jeans and a polo shirt, before he turned to the task at hand. As he busied himself cleaning out the tub, running the hot water, and pouring in some bubble-bath, he vowed to try harder to make Ruth's last few weeks of pregnancy easier for her. He'd never before realized quite how uncomfortable and tiring pregnancy could be. He remembered Jane suffering from morning sickness with both their children, but other than that and feeling the first kicks of his children against their mother's abdomen, he didn't really have any memories of her pregnancies. He felt a pang of guilt that he hadn't been there to support his first wife. He'd been busy with work as always and hadn't even been in the country when Catherine had been born. With Graham he'd tried harder to be around as their marriage had already been on the rocks, but though he hadn't managed to attend his birth, he'd made an effort to help out in any way he could, which mostly involved spending time with Catherine in order to give Jane a break. But, Graham had been three weeks early, so Jane had avoided the last few especially uncomfortable weeks.

When the bath was full he went back downstairs to get Ruth. "Bath's ready," he said softly and offered her his hand. She let him pull her to her feet and lead her upstairs. Once in their bedroom, he moved to stand in front of her and murmured, "May I?" She nodded and he proceeded to undress her, letting his fingers and hands glide over her smooth skin as he peeled off her clothes gently until she was standing before him in nothing but her underwear. "You're so beautiful, Ruth," he smiled as he stepped back to look at her when he'd finished.

She blushed and murmured, "Thank you."

He stepped close to her again, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable under his gaze for long, and unable to resist the temptation, he cupped her face with his hands and pressed his lips against hers for a long, lingering kiss. He pulled back and smiled. "Come on," he said and led her to the bathroom where he helped her remove the last of her clothes and enter the bath.

She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure as she lay back in the water, making his smile broaden. "Do you want to come in?" she asked, opening her eyes to look at him.

"Not now," he shook his head. "In fact, I'm not sure that all three of us fit," he chuckled. "Perhaps it's something we'll save for after the baby's born. I'm going to go and eat something and then I'll be back to help you get out. All right?" She nodded. Then a thought occurred to him and he asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes," she smiled, "but I'll probably need another snack before bed when I've finished here."

"All right," he replied, and with a last warm, lingering look, he left the room.

Twenty minutes later he reappeared baring a tray with two cups of tea, a sandwich for Ruth and some biscuits to share. Ruth opened her eyes and beamed at him when she saw the tray. "Thank you, Harry. You really are a sweet man, d'you know that?"

He nodded in acknowledgement and turned his back toward her to hide his embarrassment at her compliment, as he set the tray down near the sink. Then he placed Ruth's tea and sandwich on the edge of the bath tub, and lowering the toilet lid, he sat down on it. They sipped their tea in contented silence and Ruth ate her sandwich while Harry enjoyed watching her, delighting in the opportunity he had to enjoy gazing at her beautiful body. Some of the bubbles from the bubble-bath had already dissolved and there were patches of clear water through which he could admire his wife's delectable curves. She didn't appear to have noticed this, or he was sure that she would have objected to this arrangement. She was still rather shy when she had no clothes on in his presence, and he had to be careful to not let his gaze linger on her too long, or she got very uncomfortable. Still, he thought smugly, there were always ways around it, such as distracting her with his touch or his words, or watching her surreptitiously as he was doing now.

Once she'd finished eating, Harry moved to sit on the edge of the tub, and reaching for a towel, he placed it on his lap and said, "Here. Give me your foot." Ruth raised her foot out of the water, and he caught it and placed it in his lap. Then he began to massage it with his hands, making Ruth groan in pleasure and her eyes drift closed as he worked to release the tension in her muscles.

Soon he'd finished massaging both feet and Ruth was ready to get out of the bath. He steadied her as she stepped onto the bath mat and began to towel her off gently, while Ruth watched him with soft, loving eyes. He hung up the towel and held her robe for her as she slipped it on and murmured her thanks.

"Go get in bed, Ruth," he said. "I'll just take the tray downstairs and then I'll come back to clean up. Don't you dare do anything. I'm taking care of everything tonight."

She smiled and asked mischievously, "May I brush my teeth, Harry, or would you like to do that for me too?" He rolled his eyes and she pressed a kiss to his cheek in apology before adding, "Thank you, Harry. You're wonderful and I really appreciate what you're doing. It's just what I needed tonight."

He nodded, and collecting the mugs and plates, he put them on the tray and carried them back downstairs. When he came back up, Ruth was in bed reading her book. She smiled at him as he walked passed the bed on his way to the bathroom. He drained and rinsed the bath, opened the window a crack to get rid of the steam, and then proceeded to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

A few minutes later he reappeared in their bedroom and quickly stripped out of his clothes and put on a clean t-shirt. Then he opened the cupboard in his bedside table and retrieved the bottle of massage oil they kept there. Ruth looked up and raised her eyebrows at him in question.

"I haven't finished with you yet, Lady Pearce," he smiled.

"Well, it's a good thing that I didn't bother to put my pyjamas on then, isn't it?" she teased as she slipped the bookmark into her book and placed in on her bedside table.

"How very clever of you, Ruth," he murmured.

Ruth sat up in bed and turned her back toward him, pulling her hair out of the way. "You'll have to do this with me sitting up," she sighed. She really couldn't wait until her baby was born so that she could lie down on her stomach again, or her back for that matter. It had been months since the last time she'd been able to do that, she thought mournfully. She felt Harry's warm hands on her shoulders as he spread oil over them gently and began to massage her muscles in wonderfully firm strokes. He really was very good at this, she thought with delight as she allowed herself to relax and enjoy it.

By the time Harry had moved on to massaging her calves and then her thighs, Ruth was feeling loved and cherished, relaxed and renewed, and highly aroused. Harry was beginning to find it difficult to reign in his desire which had been simmering away in the background for the last hour or so, since he'd undressed Ruth for her bath. As his hands glided over her thighs toward her soft, round bottom, his desire could no longer be contained. He was already rock solid and his hands itched to slide up over her damp curls and into her delicate folds.

"Ruth-" he whispered in a strained voice as he raised his eyes to her face, but she didn't let him even complete his question before answering it.

"Yes, Harry," she murmured.

She was watching him, her eyes sparkling at him, dark sapphires radiating love and lust as she lay on her left side with her right knee bent up and her left leg extended straight down. Without a word, he let go of his self-control, his hands gliding up her left thigh to her core where they were shortly joined by his lips and tongue. Expertly and quickly he pushed her over her first peak, causing her to shudder and whisper his name in ecstasy. He lifted his head to look at her, smiling in satisfaction at her flushed cheeks, heavy-lidded eyes and sated expression.

Her hand moved to her baby bump and his smile broadened, sure that their child was kicking again in protest at her uterus contracting around him. Leaning over, he pressed his lips against her stomach and whispered, "There's nothing to worry about, little one. Mummy's just happy." He kissed her abdomen once more and raised his eyes to look at her.

She smiled and murmured, "I love you, Harry... and I want you...now."

Harry, of course, was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

_Ten days later, 18th September, 9 pm_

Beth watched with barely contained excitement as Harry entered the grid. He looked exhausted, but unfortunately, he was not alone and she had to wait for half an hour before she could talk to him. The moment the pods closed behind his visitor, she popped up from her desk, rushing over to his office and bursting through the door.

"Knock, knock!" he yelled in exasperation as he looked up from his desk.

"Sorry, Harry," she replied, "but did Ruth get hold of you?"

"Ruth?" he asked as he sat up straight in his chair. "No, why? What's happened?"

"She called when you were in the JIC meeting and asked me to tell you that she's in labour."

Harry stared at her for a moment and then a smile crept across his lips. He stood up quickly and moved toward the door, grabbing his coat and gloves as he asked, "What time was that, Beth?"

"At one."

"Christ!" he exclaimed as pulled his phone out of his pocket. The meeting had only just finished, and rather foolishly, he'd been so caught up in his urgent conversation with his counterpart from C Section that he'd forgotten to turn his phone back on and check his messages. As he saw Ruth's text message and noticed he had voice mail, he silently berated himself for the oversight and hoped that he wasn't too late and that Ruth would forgive him, even if he couldn't forgive himself for letting her down again. "Right, I'm unavailable unless disaster strikes. Page me if it's urgent. Let the team know." Beth nodded and watched him disappear through the pods.


	21. Chapter 21

__**I'm not quite sure about this chapter, but that's how it seemed to want to write itself; I hope it doesn't make anyone feel uncomfortable. Cheers, S.C.  
**

* * *

_Same night, 18th September, 10 pm_

"Ruth?" the nurse said gently. "Your husband's here."

Ruth lifted her eyes toward the door and spotted Harry standing a little uncertainly by the doorway. She smiled at him and it seemed that it was the only invitation he needed to make his way swiftly to her side.

"Hi," he whispered, grabbing hold of the hand she held out to him and pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry I'm so late. What can I do to help?"

"Just be here," she managed to say before the next contraction hit her. She groaned from the pain and leant over as she supported herself on the back of a chair. She tried hard to keep her vocal cords relaxed, but it was getting more and more difficult and she could hear herself squeaking.

Harry watched helplessly as Ruth suffered though it. He wished there was something he could do to relieve her pain. However, he knew that this was unavoidable. Ruth had decided that she wanted a natural birth with no painkillers and it was his job to support her in her decision. At least this time, she was suffering through something that would bring a wonderful reward when it was over.

"Harry," Rachel murmured to him when the contraction was over. "Ruth's having a lot of back pain with the contractions. Would you press hard against her lower back during each one? You're much stronger than I am."

"Of course," he nodded, happy to have something to do that would ease Ruth's pain. Taking off his coat, jacket and tie, he threw them on a nearby chair and moved to stand behind Ruth.

* * *

_Yesterday, 17th September, 11 pm_

He quietly made his way into the room and slipped into bed next to Ruth, relieved that she was asleep. He closed his eyes and almost sighed in contentment as he allowed his body to relax; he'd had an exhausting day, and coupled with his early start at five that morning, he was immensely grateful to find himself in bed. He was just drifting off to sleep when he felt Ruth's hand slide onto his chest and begin to caress him as it descended slowly toward his groin. He stifled a groan and turned his head toward her. They had started leaving the light on in the bathroom because Ruth had to get up so many times to use it every night, and in it's gentle glow, he could make out Ruth's face.

"Ruth?" he asked uncertainly.

"Hi," she murmured and moved closer to him as her hand continued its journey south.

"It's late," he said, catching her hand in his own and stilling its motion.

"I want you, Harry," she stated boldly.

She was getting quite good at spelling things out now, he thought with more than a little admiration; she was much better at it than he was. He sighed and murmured, "Ruth-"

She interrupted him, however, saying in a voice tinged with desperation, "I need you, Harry. I can't stand it any more. The baby's already a day late and I need you to help me."

"What?" he asked in bewilderment. "How?"

"Your semen, Harry," she said in exasperation. "I need your semen."

There was a short silence while he tried to make sense of her statement. Eventually, he admitted, "No, sorry. You've lost me. What are you talking about?"

"When I went to my last appointment, the one you missed because of your meeting with the Home Secretary, Dr. Alexiou said that a man's semen can help soften the cervix and thus induce labour," she stated.

He stared at her. Then he said in a voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, "I'm sorry, let me get this straight. You want to _use_ me for sex in order to induce your labour?"

"Yes," she answered and then added quietly, "though that's not the only reason I want to have sex with you. I do enjoy it very much, you know."

"And that's the reason that you've been wanting sex every day for the past week?" he asked, feeling the relief wash over him even before she answered. He'd been worrying about the age gap between them for most of the week and had been desperately hoping that the difference in their libido was only temporary and a result of pregnancy hormones, or else he knew he was, quite literally, screwed.

"Not the only reason," she replied defensively.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. He rolled over onto his side to face her and reached his hand over to stroke her cheek. "Ruth," he said softly. "I'm sorry, but I'm exhausted. If I was a decade or two younger, I'm sure I'd be able to give you what you want, but right now, it's too much. I'm sorry."

Her eyes softened as she watched him and she suddenly realized how selfish she was being and how difficult it much be for him to admit that he can't satisfy her needs right now. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm being so selfish." She kissed his cheek gently and murmured, "Forgive me, please."

"There's nothing to forgive, Ruth."

"I love you," she murmured, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it gently as she placed her head back on her pillow.

"I love you too," he replied and squeezed her hand in return before closing his eyes.

* * *

_The following night, 18th September, 11 pm_

"Okay, Ruth," the midwife smiled. "You're ten centimetres dilated; it's time to push with the next contraction."

Ruth nodded and gripped Harry's hand tighter.

"You're almost there, Ruth," he murmured near her ear. "Almost there."

Ruth squeezed his hand so tightly that it was painful as the next contraction came. "Push. That's it," the midwife encouraged.

However, despite Ruth's efforts, a few contractions later, the baby still hadn't appeared and she was getting tired.

"Perhaps a different position might help," Dr. Alexiou suggested. She'd come quietly into the room about a minute earlier, and noticing how tired Ruth was getting, she was a little worried. She came closer and touched Ruth's shoulder gently. "You could try kneeling on all fours, Ruth. Lying on your back doesn't work for everyone."

She caught Harry's eye and he nodded, turning to Ruth and murmuring, "Come on, Ruth. We'll help you."

"I can't any more, Harry," Ruth moaned, pleading with her eyes for him to help her. "I can't."

Harry noticed the worried looks the midwife and doctor exchanged. Ruth was getting tired, and if her baby wasn't born soon, they might need to give her a c-section. After years of being a spook, he could read them like a book. The problem was that Ruth probably could too, even in her exhausted state.

"Ruth," he said firmly, "look at me." He took her face in his hands to make sure she was focused on him. "These people here care for you, Ruth, but they don't know you. They don't know the vast reserves of strength that you possess. _I_ know you. You are one of the strongest and bravest women I know. You saved Adam from a madman with a crossbow, you remained focused on saving Fiona despite your grief, you gave up everything to keep me free, to see me safe. This is nothing compared to that._ Nothing_. You _can_ do this. I have complete faith in you. I know you, Ruth Evershed Pearce, and I _know_ you can do this." He waited, watching her intently and was relieved to see her nod. "Now, come on," he said and helped her up. Then he sat down on the bed and held her against him as she knelt before him. "Lean on me, Ruth," he murmured into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her, supporting her and murmuring words of encouragement.

"I think it would be best if we break the amniotic sac, Ruth," Dr. Alexiou said quietly. "It usually breaks on it's own in the earlier stages of labour, but your baby's is still intact. Breaking it should make it easier for you to push. Is that okay?"

Ruth looked at Rachel, who nodded her head in ascent. The two of them had talked about Ruth's labour extensively and Ruth trusted her. She trusted Dr. Alexiou too, but she knew Rachel much better and wanted her opinion also. "Okay," she whispered.

She didn't feel anything as the midwife inserted her gloved fingers inside her to feel the amniotic sac. The moment she pressed against it, however, it burst and Ruth felt the amniotic fluid gush out of her and with it came the next contraction, much faster and harder than the rest.

"Push, Ruth," Rachel encouraged, but it wasn't necessary. The pressure Ruth felt inside her was so intense, all of a sudden, that she would not have been able to stop herself from pushing even if she'd wanted to.

"The baby's crowning," the midwife said a moment later as Ruth pushed as hard as she could. "Come on, Ruth. Two more big pushes and it'll be over."

"You hear that?" Harry whispered in her ear. "You're almost there, Ruth, and then you can hold our baby."

The next contraction came faster this time, but it was the only one that was needed in the end. Ruth pushed hard, bracing herself against Harry as he murmured more words of encouragement and suddenly it was all over and she felt the pressure release and heard a baby's cry.

"You did it, Ruth," the midwife smiled. "It's a girl."

With a sob born of relief, happiness and exhaustion, Ruth slumped forward, knocking Harry off balance and making him fall backward onto the bed with Ruth on top of him, still wrapped tightly in his arms. Luckily the hospital bed they were sitting on was in a reclined position, so they didn't end up completely horizontal. He lifted his hand to her face and pushed aside her hair until he could see her eyes. "I knew you could do it," he smiled. "I love you." He kissed her lips gently and looked toward the table where Dr Alexiou was giving his daughter an Apgar score and the nurses were cleaning her up.

"Is she okay?" Ruth whispered, turning her eyes in the direction of the doctor.

"She's certainly loud," he smiled. "Sit up and we'll see," he encouraged. They managed to get back to a sitting position, and Harry got off the bed as the nurses helped Ruth rearrange herself. Rachel made sure she drank some of the herbal tea she'd brought for her and gave her a banana to eat, while Harry moved over to the table to look at their daughter.

"Is everything all right?" he asked quietly, and at the sound of his voice, the baby stopped crying for a moment.

"She's fine," Dr. Alexiou smiled. She picked the baby up and carried her over to Ruth. "Here you go, Mum. Your little one is healthy and strong, and is probably wanting her first meal."

Ruth took her daughter in her arms and smiled down at her in delight. "She's beautiful," she murmured.

"She is," Dr. Alexiou replied. "You make beautiful babies, Ruth; there's hardly any moulding at all." Then she proceeded to show Ruth how to nurse her newborn.


	22. Chapter 22

**I initially intended to complete this story by Christmas, but I think I have enough ideas to keep it going until New Years day if you're interested in reading more. What do you think? Cheers, S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Same night, 19th September, 12:30 am_

Harry gazed down at his daughter who was nestled in her mother's arms, suckling contentedly at her breast. Her eyes were open and she was gazing up at her mother with a look of intense concentration. Ruth smiled down at her and murmured, "Hello, little one. Mummy's been so impatient to see you." She looked up at Harry and smiled. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know what I'd have done without you; I'm so glad you were here."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world," he murmured reaching down and kissing her forehead tenderly. At the sound of his voice, the baby stopped nursing and let go of Ruth's breast.

"I think she recognises your voice, Harry," Ruth smiled. Then lifting her precious girl in her arms, she held her out to him. "Here. Take her for a bit."

He smiled and picked his child up gingerly, moving her round to cradle her in his arms. "Hello, beautiful," he murmured as his daughter watched him intently. "I'm your daddy." He glanced at Ruth and added, "She's beautiful, Ruth. I think she has your eyes."

"Well, she definitely has your hair. It's fair and there isn't much of it," she smiled.

"Cheeky," Harry frowned at her. Then he turned to his daughter and said, "Your mummy's being very rude, isn't she?"

"Besides, her eyes still might change colour, you know," Ruth continued, smiling as she watched them. "I hope they do. I always imagined that my children would have hazel eyes, like their father."

A look of such tenderness appeared in his eyes as he raised them to look at her, that it quite took her breath away. He opened his mouth to speak, but his daughter chose that moment to spit up what looked like half the milk she'd just drunk, all over the front of his shirt.

"Bollocks!" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, look what you've done to daddy's shirt!" Ruth laughed and reached out to take the baby from him. "Here, give her to me while you clean yourself up or it'll stain."

He did as she asked and tried to clean up the mess as best he could with a damp cloth. Meanwhile Ruth was talking to the baby. "Your daddy's going to have to watch his tongue now, isn't he? It wouldn't do for you to start repeating some of the naughty words he uses, would it, Fi?"

He smiled. "What did you just call her?"

"Fi," Ruth replied, looking up at him. "I think we should call her Fiona Rosalind. I was leaning toward Fiona anyway, but I think it suits her with her fair hair and blue eyes. What do you think?"

"I'd like that," he smiled, "if you're sure."

"I am," she nodded and turned to look at her daughter. "Well, little one, what do you think? Would you like to be called Fiona after Grandma?" Fiona brought her fist to her mouth and sucked on it as she watched Ruth. "Fiona after Grandma and Rosalind after your fairy godmother, what do you say?"

"Fairy godmother?" Harry enquired raising his eyebrows in surprise as his lips twitched in amusement.

Ruth nodded. "I asked Ros to be her godmother about three months ago, and she said she would as long as she didn't have to be a _fairy_ godmother. But since then, I've discovered something very interesting."

"Oh?"

"You're not going to like it," Ruth warned. He frowned at her and then she smiled. "Well, perhaps you won't mind so much. I didn't after I got over the initial shock."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"It was something Lucas said. He said that Ros's magical powers worked well the last time she used them and it got me thinking. So these past couple of weeks, I looked into it; after all I still haven't been decommissioned, so I checked some CCTV from the 22nd and 23rd of December of last year."

"How?" he asked in surprise.

"I set up a secure connection from your computer at home. Anyway, I found out that you left the office party with Lucas, who took you home in a cab. I left the party with Ros, who took me home in a different cab. Now, this is the interesting part. I knew I'd driven to your house in my car, but when I found my car on CCTV, I discovered that _I_ wasn't driving; it was Ros."

"Ros?!" Harry said in astonishment.

"I think she drove me to your house and put me in your bed, Harry," Ruth smiled. "And Lucas must have been in on some of it, judging from his comment about Ros's magical powers. He did take you home, and perhaps he left the alarm off or the door open. I don't know." Harry stared at her for a moment and then a sly smile crept across his lips. "So wouldn't you agree that Rosalind is a good middle name for our daughter?"

"I would agree with that anyway, Ruth, but, yes, I see what you mean."

Ruth smiled. "It's nice to discover that she cared. No wonder she was so taken with Fiona. She must have _felt_ like her fairy godmother. I can finally forgive all she did to separate us before." Harry smiled and nodded. "She's gone to sleep," Ruth murmured as she looked down at Fiona again.

"Give her to me, Ruth," Harry replied quietly. "You need to sleep now. You're exhausted."

Ruth nodded in agreement and let Harry take their daughter before she used the remote control to lower the bed.

"Good night, Fiona," Harry whispered and kissed his daughter's forehead before placing her in the bassinet by Ruth's bed. "Good night, Ruth," he said to his wife and kissed her lips softly. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Harry," she murmured, but her eyes were already closing, and before he got to the door, she was fast asleep.

* * *

_Next morning, 19th September, 7 am_

Harry called the grid on his way to the birthing centre. "Beth?" he said when she picked up the phone.

"Harry? What news?" she answered in an excited voice.

"It's a girl," he smiled, the pride he felt shining through in his voice.

"Oh, Harry. Congratulations! Are they both okay?"

"Yes, fine. I'm on my way to see them, and hopefully, bring them home. I need you to clear my schedule for today, Beth. Baring national emergencies, I'm not coming in to work."

"Of course, Harry. I'll get right on it. Have you named her yet?"

"Fiona Rosalind Evershed Pearce," he smiled.

"How lovely. Well, give our love to Ruth, won't you? And a kiss to little Fiona."

"I will."

"See you later, Harry, and congratulations again."

"Thank you, Beth." He hung up, smiling broadly.

* * *

_Two weeks later, 3rd October, 11 pm_

She heard the front door open, and moments later, Harry entered the kitchen.

"Hello," she smiled as she turned to face him. He looked exhausted. "Tough day?"

"You could say that," he nodded, pulling his tie loose and undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

"Have you eaten?" she asked as she moved toward him and kissed his cheek lightly.

He pulled her into his embrace and held her against his chest for a few moments, drawing comfort and strength from her presence. He really missed her on the grid and her absence brought back memories of the time when she was in Cyprus, adding to his stress daily. "I missed you," he murmured into her neck.

"I missed you too," Ruth smiled and rubbed his back lovingly. "You look shattered. What happened?"

"The Grid was compromised by the Russians and Chinese, working together," Harry sighed. "Once they knew we were onto them, they put the grid in lock-down, cutting off all our communications. Then using a computer program that simulated my voice, they ordered Lucas to kill the CIA cyber-expert he was meant to be protecting. Luckily Lucas figured out that it wasn't actually me giving the orders, but despite his best efforts, she was killed."

"I'm sorry, Harry," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "The cousins must be livid."

He nodded into her neck, relieved that he could still share this information with her. He'd managed to convince her to take maternity leave and all her holiday before she was decommissioned, just in case she changed her mind in the next year or so. He doubted that she would, and he suspected that she'd only agreed in order to please him and make the transition easier for both of them by making it possible for them to still discuss work with each other. "How's our little one?" he asked, lifting his head to look at her.

"Fine," Ruth smiled. "She just went back to sleep and I came downstairs to make a cup of tea. You didn't answer my question though. Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Sit down and I'll get you some supper," she replied, and releasing him, she moved over to the oven to get his food. Then she reheated it while he sat down at the table and soon they were sitting together, Harry eating his food and Ruth sipping her herbal tea.

"You should be asleep, Ruth," he said gently.

"Tell that to your daughter, Harry."

He smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Weak," she sighed. "Who'd have thought that just going up and down stairs would be considered strenuous exercise and forbidden by the doctor for several days post-partum? I thought I would go mad when I was confined to one floor of the house. Now at least I can move about freely, but I get tired so _quickly_. I used to be stronger than this, Harry. It's frustrating."

"Ruth," he frowned at her, "you've just given birth and are up all hours of the day and night nursing our little cherub. Cut yourself some slack, okay? You'll be ready for more soon. Enjoy the opportunity you have to lie in bed reading all the books in the house without feeling guilty that someone else has to take care of all the mundane things in life."

She laughed at that and slowly nodded her head. Harry finished his food, they got up, and after quickly washing up the few items they had used, they made their way upstairs slowly hand in hand.


	23. Chapter 23

**This chapter is rated M. Some of the dialogue has been taken from Spooks, but the setting has been altered. The postcard that Ruth sent to Harry is mentioned in _Spooks: The Personnel Files_ (2007). I hope you enjoy. S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Ten days later, 13th October, 8 pm_

He was sitting on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table and his knees bent, and Fiona was lying with her head on his knees and her back against his thighs. Her legs were pressed against his abdomen, pushing and kicking against him.

"How about a story?" Harry asked as he pressed his finger into her hand. She clutched it tightly in her little fist and he smiled. "You know, your hands are so very tiny, Fiona. I mean, look at this little finger. It's barely longer than my thumb nail. What could you possibly do with a finger that small?... It's funny to think that Daddy's fingers where that small too, once upon a time. Your grandma used to say-" Fiona gurgled at him and he smiled. "Sorry, I'm digressing, aren't I? I promised you a story. Now let me see... I know, would you like to hear some of your big sister's escapades? She was quite a daredevil when she was little. I hope you're not going to be quite that adventurous. I took her to London Zoo one time when she was about three, and she absolutely loved the giraffes. In fact, she was so taken with them that she decided she was going to go to Africa to see them..."

Ruth paused in the doorway to watch them as she squeezed her damp hair with a towel, smiling at the sight. She had hoped that once Fiona had been born, Harry would decide to resign. However, she realized now, that the hope had been an unrealistic one. Harry just couldn't resign so soon after Ros's death even if he wanted to; he wouldn't let himself. He would want to make sure he had a competent successor in place and a strong team to continue the good fight. Perhaps in a year, she thought, when Dimitri had a little more experience under his belt and Beth learned how to play by Harry's rules. And she couldn't really complain. Even though Harry wasn't home early very often, when he _was_ here, he did make a big effort to spend time with Fiona. It was wonderful to see them so happy together, and it was lovely to have the opportunity to have some moments to herself to take a bath and relax. Caring for a small baby was by no means easy and at times she felt like her body and certainly her time was no longer her own.

She moved quietly to the kitchen, grabbed the camera she had left there, and moved back to the sitting room doorway to take a picture. She focused, grateful that her camera was an old manual one that didn't make noises when it focused like all the modern digital cameras, and waited patiently for the perfect shot, the perfect expression. She didn't have to wait long. A few moments later, Fiona gave a huge yawn, making Harry laugh. Ruth pressed the button and took the picture, causing Harry to look up at her as the shutter clicked, alerting him to her presence.

"I couldn't resist," she explained with a sheepish smile. Harry hated having his picture taken. "It was such a great shot." He rolled his eyes and gave her a grudging smile. Fiona started to whimper when she heard her mother's voice and Ruth sighed.

"You know who's coming, don't you?" Harry asked turning back to Fiona. "Probably a good thing too seeing as my story was so boring," he smiled as Ruth took a seat beside him and kissed his cheek.

"Are you having fun with Daddy?" Ruth asked Fiona before she reached over and picked her up, placing her on her own lap. Fiona began to suck hungrily on her fist and she whimpered again. "Is it time for some milk, little one? Come on then." Harry reached over to the arm chair, retrieved her nursing cushion, and handed it to her. "Thanks," she smiled and placed it on her lap before turning her daughter round and undoing her top. Soon Fiona was nursing contentedly, staring up at Ruth and kneading her sweater with her hands, making Harry chuckle.

"What?" Ruth asked as she turned to look at him.

"Nothing," he replied, but he couldn't stop chortling. Ruth narrowed her eyes at him and he murmured, "It's just funny when she does that with her hands. It's exactly what kittens and puppies do when they suckle."

Ruth smiled. "I suppose it is. Well, we're all mammals so I imagine it must help the milk flow, or something. She _is_ milking me after all," she chuckled.

"Yes," he smiled. "I suppose she is."

He watched her nursing their daughter for a few minutes, feeling a surge of love and protectiveness for the two of them bubble up inside him. He dreaded having to bring up the letter Ruth had received today. He had no idea how she'd react, no idea what her feelings were. They'd never really talked about what had happened with George and the boy. He hadn't had the courage to bring it up. There was so much they'd never shared about their pasts, so many secrets. Sometimes, he worried that at some point something from his past might resurface, drive a wedge between them, and destroy them. Those were the times when he was tempted to open up and share some of his secrets, but fear that she'd despise him and loose all respect for him always held him back. So instead he prayed that there would never be cause for her to find out what he'd done in defence of Queen and Country. Now that she was leaving the service, he was hopeful that his fears would never be realized, that his secrets would go with him to the grave, and that Ruth would always think of him and remember him well.

"A penny for them," she said quietly.

He glanced at her and then looked down at Fiona, who was still nursing, her eyelids beginning to droop. He cleared his throat and said tentatively, "A letter arrived for you today... from Cyprus." He glanced up at her and noticed the pained look in her eyes before she managed to hide her emotions away. "We set up a forwarding address under your alias. It's standard procedure after... an extraction... It's about the house you owned... with George. His family need to sell it... and they want your permission."

He got up and went to get the envelope from his coat pocket, giving her time to process what he'd said. He returned with it and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. Ruth had already unlatched Fiona and was burping her, rubbing her back as she held her against her shoulder. He stood uncertainly before her at a loss as to what to do or say to help. "Here," he said eventually, "give her to me."

Ruth hesitated for a moment, but then handed Fiona over. Harry took her, placing her against his chest with her head over his right shoulder as he patted her back gently. "I'll take her up to bed," he murmured, and seeing Ruth nod, he left the room with Fiona.

When he came back downstairs, Ruth was still sitting on the sofa, holding the photograph of the boy in her left hand. Her right hand was covering her mouth and her eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at the picture. He stood uncertainly in the doorway, half of him feeling like running away and the other half wanting to comfort, to protect her. His better half won in the end, and he took a few steps forward and sat down beside her. She turned her head to look at him and his heart almost broke at the anguish he saw in her face. Without a word, he reached for her and pulled her against his chest, one of his hands sliding into her hair and the other rubbing circles against her back while she cried into his shirt.

When her tears slowed and her breathing quietened, he murmured, "Tell me about it, Ruth."

She pulled away, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose before looking at him and then back at the picture of the boy. "I miss him," she confessed.

He nodded. "How old is he now?" he asked.

"He's eight," she smiled wistfully. "He wrote to me. He writes quite well. He always loved reading, you know. Reading and swimming. If he wasn't in the pool, he was curled up on the sofa with a book or begging me to read to him."

"You should write to him," he ventured.

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "He's better off with his own people. It's best if he moves on. Besides, it would put him in danger again, and I couldn't do that to him. He's lost enough; his family have lost enough."

He nodded, knowing that what she said was true, but he couldn't help adding, "Think about it, Ruth. I'm sure that you could find a way to do it without endangering him if you put your mind to it. You managed to get a message to me after all, while you were away."

She smiled at that, remembering the effort and pain it had cost her to write that final note to him, and the painstaking steps she had taken to ensure that it would reach him safely without leaving a trail for someone to follow.

"You did the right thing. We both did the right thing. Salus populi suprema lex. Grand tours are less fun alone, but I am well and safe. Look after yourself. I think of you often. Quos amor versus tenuit tenebit," he quoted. "Signed, Stubborn Mule."

"You memorized it," she stated with a smile.

"I did," he nodded. "It got me through some dark times. I used to imagine you in all the great capitals of Europe, taking in the sights, sitting in cafés. I wished I could have been with you of course, but it gave me pleasure to think of you enjoying them even if you were on your own..." He looked away, but not fast enough for her to miss the pained look in his eyes.

"Harry?" she said gently and touched his arm. "What is it?"

He shook his head and murmured, "It's nothing."

She watched him, trying to figure out what was wrong. It only took a few moments before she suddenly knew what was bothering him. "It's George, isn't it?" He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to; his silence was as good as an admission.

"You once asked me if I loved him," she said after taking a moment to collect her thoughts and looking down at her hands as she spoke. "I didn't. I spent almost a year and a half alone, moving around at first, and after I'd settled down in Polis, avoiding contact with anyone, hoping that you'd find a way to come for me and bring me home. And then one day, it was a Tuesday and I was sitting on the beach after work, I suddenly realized that you wouldn't come, that I would never see you again. I felt... like I'd run into a brick wall and I couldn't breath... and then the tears came, and I cried my heart out, sitting there alone on a beach. A woman stopped to ask me if I was all right and I didn't know what to tell her. How could I explain that I would never be all right again? So I nodded, wiped away my tears, and went for a swim. I swam out to sea, stroke after stroke, trying to escape the despair that was threatening to overwhelm me. Eventually I got tired and stopped, looking around me for the first time. That's when I realized that I'd swam a very long way out. In fact, I was so far out that I was suddenly sacred that I wouldn't be able to make it back. And that's when I realized that I _wanted_ to live, and in order to do that, I needed to let you go. I needed to move on."

She sighed heavily, and felt his hand slide over hers gently. She grasped it with both her hands and squeezed it tight, seeking reassurance that he really was here with her. "George was the first man I agreed to date, but not the first who asked. I chose him because he was a good man, but was nothing like you in any other way. I couldn't bring myself to be with anyone who reminded me of you. George was good to me, and I cared for him deeply, but my heart was always yours, Harry. I felt... I suppose I felt as if I'd been widowed. My legend, Gillian Ruth Jamison, was a widow and so was George, so he understood the limitations of what I had to offer him. We shared a contented, peaceful companionship, but I knew I would never fall in love with him. But Nico... Nico was an entirely different story. I loved him; I still do. He's a wonderful boy and I miss him."

She raised her eyes to look at him and murmured, "I feel so guilty, Harry. When we were on the plane flying here, my greatest fear wasn't for the safety of my family or myself... My greatest fear was that you wouldn't be here... that you'd been killed in the time I'd been away... And part of me was so _happy_ that I would see you again, that I had a valid excuse to come back." She shook her head and looked down again.

Harry reached over and tilted her chin up so that he could see her eyes. "I know exactly how you feel, Ruth. When Mani told me they were bringing you to that warehouse... I wanted to see you again so much that part of me was pleased that they had captured you..." He paused and then admitted in a hoarse whisper, "And after they shot George... part of me was pleased that he was out of the picture, that you were free." He glanced away as he said it, the guilt settling in his insides like lead. He swallowed and then turned to look at her again. "It's human nature to be selfish sometimes, Ruth. We can't always be knights in shining armour. Sometimes our armour tarnishes and gets dented, but we're still capable of great acts of self-sacrifice and love... And we do love, Ruth... very deeply."

She nodded and squeezed his hand before leaning forward and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. "Yes, Harry. We do."

* * *

_The following night, 15th October, 12 am_

He walked into his bedroom and made his way to the bed silently in his bare feet. The night light in the corner cast a faint glow over his daughter's face as she slept peacefully in her bassinet that was attached to their bed. Ruth's hand was resting inches away from their child and they were both sleeping soundly. His eyes traced their faces lovingly and he felt his heart rate slow and his breathing even out. Just watching them calmed him. He stood there for long minutes, drinking them in, feeling immensely grateful that he finally had something so good in his life again, and hoping... hoping that nothing ever happened to take them away. Loosing them was his greatest fear. One last look and he padded over to his side of the bed and retrieved his t-shirt from under the pillow and some clean boxers from the dresser. Then he left the room and went to the bathroom to take a shower.

Silently he entered his bedroom once more and made his way over to the bed, placing his phone on the bedside table and sliding under the covers. He lay back with his head on the pillow and his hands clasped together across his chest, thinking. He knew he wouldn't sleep much, if at all, tonight. He could never sleep when he was worried. And tonight he was very worried. Lucas... no, he corrected himself, John Bateman, was out there somewhere, on the loose, confused, desperate, and unstable. His best officer had turned against them and the rest of his team was too inexperienced to deal with him. God, how he wished that Ros was still here, or Adam. He was going to have to bring in someone from outside... but who?

"You're thinking too loud," Ruth whispered as she turned to look at him, running her hand along his upper arm.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured. There was silence for a few moments as she waited patiently for him to open up, and he didn't disappoint. "I've lost Lucas," he whispered, feeling his throat tighten.

"Oh, Harry," she gasped, lifting herself onto her elbow and moving closer. "What happened?"

He cleared his throat and murmured, "It turns out that he's not Lucas North, but John Bateman, a man who's responsible for the Embassy bombing in Dakar fifteen years ago that killed seventeen people. He's on the run."

"How did he slip thought the net?" she asked quietly after a moment of shocked contemplation.

"Lucas North had already passed the vetting and all that was left were the interviews," Harry replied.

"Oh, Harry," Ruth sighed and ran her hand along his arm and across his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He was a good officer, no matter what he did in the past, he was a good officer and saved countless lives. Perhaps he'll turn himself in, make a deal."

"I don't know, Ruth," Harry sighed and reached for her, pulling her against his chest. "I hope so...but it's unlikely now. I just feel so..." He paused, unable to articulate the depth and intensity of his feelings. "I talked to him today. He's after a WMD. It targets people of a specific race. He told me... that Lucas North is dead. I have to treat him as a rogue officer."

"He hasn't been right since that business with Sarah Crawfield and Ros's death, Harry. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to have to enlist outside help. Dimitri and Beth are too close to this and just not experienced enough to deal with him."

"Another Adam Carter?"

"Not from Six," Harry shook his head and then suddenly he had an idea. "Alec White. He's a former Five officer, worked for internal affairs and specialized in bringing in rogue agents. I'll see him in the morning." He turned to look at her and kissed her lips gently. "Thank you."

"What for?" she asked.

"Helping me figure it out. I think so much better when I talk to you. God, I miss having you on the Grid."

"And part of me misses being there with you," she admitted. "Especially, when you're late home."

"Sorry," he murmured kissing her lips again softly.

"Mmmm," she hummed quietly and kissed him back, brushing her tongue against his lips and coaxing them to open. He responded eagerly, letting his fingers tangle themselves in her hair as they gently and silently explored each other's mouths. It had been over four weeks since she'd kissed him like this and his body's reaction was swift and potent, all tiredness suddenly forgotten. Concern for her held him back, however, and he let her take the lead from the start, waiting for permission before doing anything more. "Touch me, Harry," she whispered when they came up for air.

"Tell me when to stop. I don't want to hurt you," he murmured and waited for her to nod before he captured her lips with his own once more. His hands slid down her back to the edge of her pyjama top, before he dipped them underneath, pulling the material up as he caressed her skin. She let him slide it all the way up before sitting up to pull it off. Then she helped him remove his shirt too before leaning over him once more to kiss him. Her left leg worked it's way between his as she lay across his left side, her chest resting on top of his. "I missed you," she murmured against his mouth before pressing her lips to his once more.

Soon their kisses became more demanding and passionate as their hands grew ever bolder. His palm skimmed across the side of her full breast and she moaned into his mouth, grinding herself against his leg and slipping her hand down to caress him through his cotton boxers. He groaned and involuntarily pressed himself toward her hand. She massaged him gently at first and then more firmly, until he could stand it no longer. Without releasing her lips, he rolled her over onto her back, hovering over her chest diagonally and letting his right hand play along her skin, her breast, her nipple, and then slipping under the elastic of her pyjama bottoms to her thighs. She gripped his shoulders tightly as her arousal grew and she spread her legs in invitation. His fingers moved under the elastic of her knickers, drawn to the wetness between her legs, and they skimmed over her delicately and gently as he read her carefully for any signs of being uncomfortable. He felt none, however, so he continued, pressing a little firmer now as his mouth dipped down to her nipples, and he licked and caressed them with his lips and tongue. His finger slid inside her gently and he heard her gasp of pleasure at the sensation.

"I want you, Harry. I need you now," she murmured and he raised his head to look at her.

"I don't want to hurt you, Ruth," he whispered with concern. "I can wait."

"Well, I can't," she smiled and slid her hand between their bodies to find him. He gasped at the contact and tried to move away, but her hand closed around him tightly as she began to massage him firmly in just the way she knew he liked it. "I want you," she repeated and he relented, nodding his head as he fought for control. She let him go and pulled off her pyjamas and underwear as he did the same. Then he moved between her legs and gently he pressed himself against her, watching her face intently for any sign that he should stop. "Don't worry, Harry. I want this," she murmured and pulled his head toward her. He kissed her, softly at first and then more firmly as she wrapped her arms round his shoulders and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss. He eased himself forward, entering her slowly, giving her time to adjust to his width, moving gently in and out as he slid deeper and deeper inside her.

She ached a little as his penis stretched her, filling her a little more with every thrust, but it was not painful, just a little sore. Once he was all the way inside her, he lifted his head and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she replied quietly. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

He nodded and began to move, watching her tenderly as he did. "I love you," he murmured, "and I've missed you. I've missed this."

She smiled and began to move her hips up to meet him as the ache and soreness slowly subsided and the pleasure intensified. They hadn't done this in so long, not like this, not this close, not this deep. By the time they'd started dating, her baby bump had already been large enough to get in the way, and they'd had to adjust their love making around it. It felt so good to have him facing her, kissing her, his body moving against hers all along her front and so deeply inside her.

"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, Harry. Yes."

He smiled and dipped his head down to capture her lips as he slowly let go of his restraint when he saw her pleasure. "Ruth," he murmured against her lips, "my Ruth."

They moved slowly at first enjoying coming together again after what seemed like an eternity, but soon they could hold themselves back no longer and everything was heat and passion and sensation. He gripped her tighter as he drove into her deeper and faster and she pushed against him, arching her back and meeting him thrust for thrust. Their lips stayed close, kissing and caressing between gasps and pants for air.

Suddenly Fiona stirred, letting out a small whimper, and Harry froze.

"Don't stop," Ruth gasped.

"I forgot she was here," he whispered, his breathing rugged.

"She'll go back to sleep," Ruth murmured. "Don't stop." He looked back at her uncertainly. "She's hardly a month old yet. She doesn't know what's going on. Please, Harry. I want you."

He nodded and began to move again as Ruth's hands skidded down his sweat dampened back to grasp his bum and she murmured, "Yes, Harry. Faster," near his ear. His lips found the warm skin of her neck, kissing her repeatedly as he whispered his love for her over and over again and their bodies moved together in an increasingly frenzied and yet perfectly harmonious dance. Ruth broke first, gasping for breath and shuddering beneath him and around him, but he was hardly aware of it, lost as he was in sensation. When Fiona whimpered again, he didn't even hear her as he drove into his wife's tender heat again and again before abruptly stilling his motion and emptying himself inside her with a muffled groan against her neck. His muscles tensed, trembling slightly with the strain of supporting his weight, when he felt Ruth's hands on his back, pulling him down toward her as she murmured, "I love you. Let go," into his ear. So he did, letting his body fall into her warmth, whispering her name against her neck, and pressing more kisses against her soft skin.

Some time later, he had no idea how much time had passed, he felt Ruth shift slightly bellow him and he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was probably squashing her flat. He lifted himself onto his elbows, murmuring softly, "I'm sorry, Ruth. I must be crushing you."

"No," she shook her head as she smiled up at him. "I like it, but I do need to see to Fiona."

He became aware of Fiona's protests then. Her quiet whimpers had almost worked up to a cry by now, so he reluctantly slid out of Ruth and rolled onto his side. Ruth turned toward their daughter picking her up, placing her on the bed next to her, and lying on her side. After a couple of unsuccessful tries, Fiona managed to latch on and began to nurse contentedly, her eyes closing almost immediately.

A couple of minutes passed and Ruth murmured, "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Come here."

He rolled onto his side, moving closer to Ruth and propping himself onto his left elbow to look over her shoulder at their daughter. He smiled at the sight. "She's beautiful... even though her timing is awful," he murmured near her ear. She chuckled and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. "Don't say it," he warned.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"I know you, Ruth," he frowned. "You were going to say that she must take after me, weren't you?"

"It might have crossed my mind," she admitted with a small smile.

He sighed and began to roll away from her.

"Don't," she protested, twisting her head around and pressing a kiss to his cheek when he paused. "I love you."

He turned his head toward her and captured her lips in a tender kiss before murmuring quietly, "I love you too." Then he moved his head and looked over her shoulder at Fiona again. "She's sleeping," he murmured.

Ruth nodded and moved to pick her up, sliding her over to her bassinet as Harry lay back against the pillows and sighed in satisfaction. "God, Ruth, that was good," he murmured a few moments later as Ruth pulled on her pyjama top and lay down with her head on his shoulder. "So very good. I love you." He turned his head and pressed a kiss against her hair. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Hmmmm," she hummed. "I needed that. It does feel _so_ very good," she sighed, feeling her body tingle deliciously all over.

He chuckled and pressed another kiss to her hair. "I know," he agreed sleepily. "I can't even begin to describe how much I needed that."

"I'm sorry," she frowned, lifting her head to look at him. "I didn't realize quite how long it's been; all the days seem to have blurred together lately. Why didn't you say something? You didn't need to wait that long."

"It's all right, Ruth," he soothed. "It's fine. I didn't want to rush you."

"Harry," she scolded this time, "you're an idiot."

He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. In all the years he'd known her, he could only recall two occasions on which she'd insulted him, once after the EERIE exercise and the second after he refused to save Nico, and he was inclined to agree that he'd deserved it both times. Now, however... "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked.

"You're an idiot, Harry Pearce," she reiterated, raising herself on her elbow to see him better. "The whole bloody point of _having_ a wife is so you can feel free to ask for sexual favours when you need them. I make it clear when I need you, and I expect the same courtesy. So please, next time you want sex _tell _me."

"But, Ruth-"

"But Ruth nothing. I'm asking you, as a favour, to please let me know next time. If we start holding back now, it's a slippery slope from here, and frankly, you should know that seeing as you've been down it once before."

He frowned. Was that really what had happened last time? Had he began holding back? Perhaps. Certainly after Catherine had been born it had been true.

"Promise me, Harry," she said gently, her eyes softening and pleading with him. "I'll never reject you. I might offer a hand-job instead, but I'll never reject you. Trust me."

"I do," he murmured. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should have said something, but honestly, I thought you had enough to worry about with caring for Fiona."

"And you didn't want to be an additional burden?" she asked and he nodded. "Oh, Harry. I _want_ you to need me and rely on me, _especially_ for sex."

"All right," he smiled. "I promise not to hold back again."

"Good." she replied and rested her head against his chest.

Harry chuckled lightly and then murmured, "Do you really believe that the _whole_ point of marriage is to feel free to ask for sexual favours?"

She smiled against his chest and replied, "Perhaps I was exaggerating a little when I said it was the _whole_ point, but it's certainly a very important one, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed," he chuckled. "Life is much more enjoyable when your spouse _insists_ on being available to lavish you with sexual favours whenever the fancy strikes you. Beats bestowing them on yourself any day."

She laughed lightly and kissed his chest before resting her head back on his shoulder as she continued to chuckle at his turn of phrase. He really was very good with words, she thought. His timing was often awful, but he was good with words, her Harry. She smiled at the thought. "Good night, Harry," she whispered.

"Good night, Ruth," he replied and held her close, feeling immensely grateful once more to have her in his life.


	24. Chapter 24

**Again some of the dialogue here is not my own as I'm mostly following the original series in this one with a few minor changes. **_  
_

* * *

_Same day, 15th October, 10 am_

Ruth heard a noise downstairs. Cradling Fiona against her chest, she paused to listen. That was the alarm beeping, waiting for the pin code to be entered. Was it Harry? Gently she put her sleeping daughter down into her crib, and made her way toward the stairs.

* * *

"Harry!" Tariq burst into his office. "There's a security breach at your house. The alarm's just gone off. The plods are on their way."

He looked up in alarm. "Ruth?" he asked and picked up his phone to dial her number.

* * *

She was half way down the stairs when she spotted the intruder. He had his back toward her and was quickly and stealthily moving into the sitting room. She froze on the spot, her mind working in overdrive to figure out what to do. She could make a dash for the door and run for help, but Fiona was upstairs. Would someone harm a sleeping baby?

She'd just made up her mind to make a run for it, when the man came back out of the sitting room and advanced toward her swiftly. "Lucas?!" she breathed in disbelief, moments before he grabbed her and dragged her out of the house and into the waiting van, ignoring her fearful demands to let her go.

* * *

_Same day, 15th October, 10:30 am_

He waited at his desk anxiously, every second lasting an eternity.

"We have Fiona," Dimitri's voice sounded over the comms. "We have Fiona, Harry, but Ruth's gone. She's not in the house. Her bag is here and her phone, but no sign of her."

The momentary relief he felt when he knew his daughter was safe did not last long. Ruth was gone and was probably in grave danger. He struggled to keep his voice level as he replied, "Okay. I'll call someone for Fiona. Get back here right away, both of you."

"Understood," Beth replied.

He drew his hand over his face briefly, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He had a job to do. Ruth needed him and he had to be strong for both of them. He picked up his phone to dial Rachel in the hope that she'd be able to help with Fiona, but it rang before he had a chance to enter the number. "Yes," he said.

"Simple and clean, Harry. A straight swap, Albany for Ruth, today, or you'll never find the body." Lucas's voice sounded harsh, determined.

"Don't you dare hurt her," he growled, anger bubbling to the surface in an instant as his gut twisted in fear. His worst nightmare had come to pass.

"You've got 90 minutes. We both know that's not enough time to find me."

* * *

_Same day, 15th October, 3:30 pm_

He waited in the car, staring at his phone anxiously, willing it to ring. Please let her be all right, he silently begged. Just let her be all right. The phone rang just once before he answered. There was a pause and then Lucas said, "15 Walmsley Road."

Relief surged through him and had him closing his eyes momentarily. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, the gratitude he felt shining through in his voice.

"It's not me you have to thank," Lucas replied and hung up.

Harry turned to the driver and said in an urgent voice, "Walmsley Road. Now! Have paramedics meet us there."

The trip seemed to take forever. When the car finally stopped outside the warehouse, Harry jumped out and rushed into the building, bursting through the door in haste. He saw her, lying on a flat surface, hooked up to an I.V. "Ruth!" he called moving swiftly to her side. He unplugged the I.V. and gently cupped her face with his hands. She was warm. "She's alive," he uttered in relief and stepped aside to let the paramedics get to her, looking on anxiously as they examined and treated her.

With Ruth safe, his attention turned to the matter of Albany, and he listened in on the comms through his phone. His team was hot on the heals of Lucas and Maya, however moments later, there was an ominous silence for a few seconds and then Alec said, "Harry, we found the tracker. Maya Lahan's dead."

He felt his stomach drop. "And Lucas?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"He's gone," Dimitri answered this time. "We've lost Albany."

* * *

_Next day, 16th October, 5 pm_

She waited silently by the phone, her mind a confused mass of emotions. Love, anger, hurt, despair... She shouldn't have been so hard on him today. How could she have told him that it wasn't fair of him to love her? And yet, how could he have given up something as awful as Albany to save just her? How could he justify sacrificing thousands of lives for just one, no matter how precious to him? This was not the Harry she knew and loved. She just couldn't wrap her mind around it, couldn't understand.

They had barely had a change to talk since she had come round in that warehouse. She'd been taken to hospital and he'd gone back to the Grid to try and locate and retrieve Albany. They'd kept her in the hospital overnight for observation, and when she'd come to the Grid this morning to be debriefed and she'd confronted him, he hadn't had a chance to explain anything. And then he was gone. He'd left to go and meet John Bateman, and in all likelihood, would die. And what had she done? Had she comforted him, touched or kissed him, said goodbye? No. The last thing he had heard from her lips had been condemnation, and it was eating her alive. She'd been so cruel... And now, how could she live without him? Tears began to slide down her cheeks as the minutes ticked by and still there was no word from Harry. Please let him be all right, she thought desperately as the tears turned into sobs. She couldn't bear it any more, couldn't sit still any longer; she had to get away. Abruptly she got up and turned around, spotting Tariq standing quietly by her side, unsuccessfully fighting back tears of his own.

"I'm going home to Fiona," she stated in an unsteady voice.

"Okay," he nodded. "I'll call when I hear..."

She swallowed, trying desperately to hold back the fresh tears that threatened to fall. "Thank you, Tariq," she managed and turned to leave.

On the way home, she sat silently in the back of the car as Mike drove. He didn't speak, though it was evident that he was concerned for her. It took half an hour to get there, but still there was no news. Holding herself together with extreme effort and sheer determination, she entered the house. Rachel was in the sitting room holding Fiona and cooing to her softly.

"Ruth!" she said in surprise and then seeing her distress asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied, shaking her head even though she knew she would fool no one. "I just need to hold her," she managed.

"Of course," Rachel agreed and handed the baby over to her as Ruth sat down.

"Thank you," Ruth murmured and looked down at Fiona. Her daughter smiled and then began to whimper as she realized that her mum was home and she could finally nurse. Ruth immediately undid her top and let her latch on, smiling for a moment down at her daughter despite the tears streaming down her face and the ache in her heart. "Oh, Fi," she murmured as the baby focused on her with her beautiful, blue eyes. How she wished in that moment that her eyes had been hazel. She would never see his gorgeous, hazel eyes again. She felt Rachel's arm go round her back and she turned her face toward her, leaning on her shoulder as she accepted the comfort she was offering and she wept, sobbing her heart out for the man she loved and would never see again.

Her phone rang, intruding on her grief, but she ignored it.

"Shall I get it?" Rachel asked quietly.

"Okay," Ruth managed. She was dreading what Tariq was going to say. She had no hope left and she didn't want to hear the finality of Tariq's words. Rachel got up and retrieved Ruth's phone from the kitchen counter, bringing it back to Ruth and offering it out to her. She shook her head, so Rachel answered it for her.

"Hello," she said. "Ruth's phone."

"Rachel?" Harry's voice carried clearly across to Ruth and she gasped in shock. "Put Ruth on the phone, please."

Rachel handed it over and Ruth snatched it from her hand, bringing it quickly to her ear. "Harry?" she whispered.

"Ruth," he caressed her name. "Are you okay? Tariq said-"

"I'm fine," she replied as she tried to calm her breathing and hide the fact that she'd been crying. "I'm fine now. Are you?"

"Yes," he answered. "And Fiona?"

"She's fine. Rachel took good care of her," Ruth smiled gratefully at her companion, who returned her smile, glad that Ruth seemed to be feeling better.

"Right," Harry nodded. "I'd better go."

"Okay," she replied. "What happened to Lucas?"

"He's dead," Harry sighed. "Jumped off the top of the building."

"Oh, God," she gasped. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Me too," he admitted his voice taking on a defeated tone for a moment.

"Did he... did he hurt you? Are you injured?" Ruth asked tentatively.

"Just a small cut on my forehead," he replied in his usual firm, brisk tones. "Nothing to worry about. I have to go."

"Okay," she nodded and opened her mouth to tell him that she loved him, but she didn't get the chance to before he hung up.

* * *

_Later that night, 17th October, 1 am_

He let himself into the house, removed his coat and shoes, and made his way straight to his decanter in the sitting room, pouring himself a large whiskey. He took a large gulp of his drink, and walking over to his arm chair, he sat down heavily. What a mess. His life was falling apart around him and he felt like he was drowning in quick-sand. It was all happening so fast, Lucas's betrayal, loosing Albany, his enemies going for blood, Ruth... It was unfair of him to love her, she'd said. Since she'd uttered those words, they had haunted him whenever he'd had a spare minute to think. Sighing he took another gulp of his whiskey, draining the glass, and got up to refill it.

He set it down on the table and was about to pick up the decanter when a noise from behind him had him turning round. Ruth was standing in the doorway looking as if she'd just seen a ghost. He watched as she raised her hand to her cover her mouth, and the next moment, a sob escaped her and she practically ran across the room and threw herself into his arms. He caught her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to his chest, burring his face in her hair and inhaling her sweet scent.

"Harry," she breathed. "Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. So very sorry. Forgive me, please. Oh God, I love you. Please, forgive me. I thought I'd lost you." She began to cry, holding onto him as if her life depended on it and begging him to forgive her. And as she rambled on, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders and the cracks in his heart begin to heal. She loved him, and even though she didn't know the truth about Albany, it didn't matter; right now, she didn't care. She was just happy they were both alive and together.

"Hey, hey," he murmured. "Shhhhh... It's okay, Ruth. I'm here. I'm fine. Shhhhh..." He stroked her hair and held her until her sobs subsided and her breathing quietened. Then he lifted his head and moved back a little so he could see her face. "I love you, Ruth. I can't help it. I'll always love you and I'll always save your life if I can. Albany's not real. It never got past the first stage of development, but the Russian's got wind of it and it worked as a deterrent. I couldn't loose you over something that wasn't going to harm anyone. I'm sorry I never got the chance to explain that."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed as fresh tears began to stream down her cheeks.

"Don't cry, my love," he murmured. "Please, don't cry."

"I let you... walk away... I thought... you were going... to die... and I didn't... even say... goodbye," she said, her words punctuated by sobs. "I didn't... tell you... how much... I love you... I shouldn't... have let you... go without... fixing things... between us."

"And neither should I," he smiled, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "We were both wrong to let our last words to each other be angry and hurtful. We're both to blame, Ruth, but we can try to do better in the future, yes? Never go to bed angry or upset."

She nodded, making an effort to get her body under control and stop crying. "Yes," she said after a moment.

He leant forward and pressed his lips gently against hers, tasting the salt of her tears on them. "I love you, Ruth. Always and forever. And I can't even begin to describe how glad I am that Lucas was after Albany and not a secret stash of Uranium."

"Me too, Harry. Me too," she sighed and buried her face in his shoulder as she held him in a fierce embrace.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter and kissed her hair before saying, "I'm going to resign."

"What? Are you sure?" she asked lifting her head to look at him.

"Yes," he nodded. "It's going to be close to impossible to save my career now, but in any case, I know it's time. I can't do this any more. I can't loose any more officers, and I can't loose you. Lucas has to be the last. I'm leaving, and hopefully by resigning, I will be able to leave on better terms that if they kick me out."

She looked alarmed at the prospect of the consequences he might face. "You think they'll charge you with treason?"

"It's possible," he nodded, "but doubtful. I hope to avoid going to prison. I know a lot of unsavoury things about most of the people that are likely to be on the enquiry panel, and I suspect that they will be willing to just let me go quietly through the back door, though it will probably mean the loss of my knighthood. But as I never wanted it in the first place, it's no big deal."

"Oh, I don't know," Ruth smiled tentatively. "I quite like shagging a knight of the realm."

He chuckled and murmured, "Well, you'd better enjoy it while it lasts, _Lady_ Pearce."

"Oh, I intend to, _Sir_ Harry," she grinned and captured his lips in a searing kiss.


	25. Chapter 25

**Happy Christmas to all who celebrate it. I hope you enjoy this little update. Cheers, S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_One week later, 24th October, 11 am_

"Ah, Harry. Come in," William Towers said as he turned to face him.

"Home Secretary," Harry replied as he walked across the room.

"Drink?" Towers offered.

"It's a little early for me, Home Secretary."

"Tea then? Coffee?"

"No, thank you."

Towers gestured for Harry to take a seat and sat down behind his desk.

"I'd like to offer my resignation," Harry began as he sat down. Towers raised an eyebrow at him. "I understand that the incident with Albany has provided the perfect opportunity for my enemies to attempt to remove me, and I'm inclined to agree that it's time for me to move on. I'm prepared to leave quietly through the back door without a fuss, provided my conditions are met."

"Harry," Towers replied, "I'm not sure you are in any position to demand anything right now. You gave away a state secret to save the life of your... lover."

"My wife," Harry corrected calmly.

"Wife?" Towers asked in confusion.

"Ruth and I were married almost two months ago," Harry clarified.

"Jesus wept, Harry!" Towers exclaimed. "This gets worse and worse."

"I am sure that depends on your point of view, Home Secretary."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Towers replied. "I didn't mean to imply that I am not pleased for you and Ruth, however, the fact remains that you gave away a state secret for personal reasons. You let your personal feelings take precedence over the interests of the state, and you failed to inform your superiors of the change in your relationship with one of your officers!"

"I disagree," he replied and Tower's eyebrows shot up in surprise at his statement. "I _did_ fail to inform my superiors about my marriage. It was my intention to let you know soon. It was a source of unease for Ruth and I did not wish to put undue stress on her during her pregnancy. It did not seem to matter if there was a delay of a few weeks, especially since she was on leave."

"But the fact that John Bateman knew of your relationship gave him good reason to target her specifically."

"That is correct," Harry sighed. "Ruth has been used to try to force my hand before, Home Secretary. It's true that my team was aware of the feelings we harbour for each other, as were others in the Security Services and Government, including yourself." Towers nodded in acknowledgement. "Being married to Ruth, therefore, did not change anything. I loved her before and I love her still. As for handing over Albany, I would have followed the same course of action to save any one of my officers. My intention was to get Albany back before it left the country as you well know. John Bateman was one of my most capable officers and I knew that he would see through any kind of bluff I tried to pull. My only hope to rescue my officer was to deliver the genuine article and then get it back from him later. It was unfortunate that Maya Lahan was killed, and therefore, we were unable to track Bateman any longer. State secret or not, Albany does not work and poses no threat to any lives, and forgive me, Home Secretary, but I strongly believe that lives are more important than deterrents in the grand scheme of things. Ruth Evershed is one of my best officers, and I believe, on a professional level, that she is more valuable to the country than Albany. I have prepared a report that details her involvement in our operations over the last eight years that I hope illustrates her worth." Leaning forward he placed the report on the table. Towers reached over for it and flicked through it. "I believe myself to be fortunate that my professional and personal opinions on the best course of action coincided in this instance, Home Secretary."

Towers nodded. "Very well, Harry. I shall read this. Now, tell me what it is you want."

"I have served my country to the best of my abilities for the best part of my adult life and in recognition of that service I wish to leave quietly through the back door with my full pension and benefits due. Ruth will receive no reprimand of any kind for her role in all this. I intend to live a quiet life in the country after I leave. If a slap on the wrist is required for appearances sake, I will willingly give up my knighthood in return for the rest."

"Harry," Towers replied, "I'm not sure this will be possible. Handing over a state secret is tantamount to treason, and is rarely, if ever, rewarded with a full pension and a slapped wrist."

"I think you will find, Home Secretary," Harry answered as he leant back in his seat and pressed his fingertips together, "that most of the people on the panel that will be convened tomorrow will agree that it is a reasonable compromise, which will avoid a lot of unsavoury things coming out."

Towers narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening them, Harry?"

"On the contrary, Home Secretary," Harry smiled. "I am reminding them that we are all human and have all made decisions at some point in our careers that did not reflect well on ourselves and whose outcomes did not turn out as anticipated, despite our best intentions. Dragging up the past will solve nothing. They want me out and I want to leave. Surely that's a win-win situation."

Towers smiled and nodded his head. "I'll see what I can do, Harry."

"Thank you, Home Secretary."

* * *

_Same day, 24th October, 6 pm_

He walked into the house and removed his coat and shoes, sliding his feet into his slippers. It still felt rather odd to be wearing them, but Ruth had been adamant about the importance of removing shoes at the door now that they had Fiona. At the time, he'd felt like pointing out that she wouldn't be crawling for some months yet, but he hadn't. It wasn't really such a big deal, and certainly not worth having an argument over it. He peered into the sitting room and the kitchen, looking for Ruth, but both rooms were empty. Then he heard a noise coming from upstairs, so he made his way to the staircase and slipping off his slippers so as not to make a sound, he stealthily went up.

He followed the sounds to their bedroom and peered in through the crack in the door. Ruth was sitting on the bed, talking to Fiona who was lying on her back and gurgling up at her mother. This was normal enough behaviour for the pair of them, but what had him transfixed was the conversation.

"Ana Behibek, Fiona," Ruth said. "Wo ai ni, Fiona... Tora dust midaram, Fiona...Σ'αγαπώ, Fiona...Je t'aime, Fiona... Ich liebe dich, Fiona... Ti amo, Fiona... Ya tebya liubliu, Fiona... Te amo, Fio-"

"Ruth," he murmured as he stepped into the room, "what on earth are you doing?"

She blushed as she turned toward him and replied with a sheepish smile, "I've decided to teach Fiona another language and I was trying to see if she has a preference for one of them."

He stared at her for a moment in astonishment, and then a slow smile spread across his lips. Stepping up to the bed and leaning over it, he pressed his lips firmly against hers before pulling back and saying, "Do you have _any_ idea how much I love you, Ruth?"

"I do," she smiled, surprised at his sudden declaration of love. He wasn't normally this demonstrative, but when he did occasionally express his love for her in such an unrestrained manner it made her feel wonderful.

"Good," he declared and held her gaze for a moment longer before turning his head to look at Fiona. His daughter immediately smiled and started to gurgle at him. "Hello, beautiful," he murmured and reached down to kiss her forehead and stroke her soft, downy hair. "Is mummy teaching you lots of clever things?" Fiona gurgled in answer and smiled again.

"Such a daddy's girl already," Ruth sighed, making Harry smile.

"All girls are daddy's girls," he said wisely as he sat down next to Ruth.

"And they all have them wrapped around their little finger," she smiled.

Harry chuckled. "Speaking from personal experience, are you, Ruth?"

"Possibly," she replied as her thoughts drifted to her own father. "I'm not telling," she added lightly with a smile. Thinking of her father no longer filled her with sadness. There was always a brief pang of pain and regret that he was not here to see his granddaughter, but that was all.

He gazed at her lovingly, enjoying their playful banter. Then he reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "You're beautiful, Ruth," he murmured.

"Thank you," she blushed. She was still not used to receiving complements from Harry, though again it was not something he did often. "So what do you think of my idea?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Teaching Fiona another language," Harry asked with a mischievous glint in his eye, "or having a one month old baby choose which one?" She slapped his shoulder lightly in irritation, making him chuckle. Then kissing her lips softly again in apology, he added, "I think it's an excellent idea if you don't mind doing it."

"But which one, Harry?" she asked earnestly.

"Whichever you feel most comfortable using. After all, you will be speaking it every day with her for years."

"You're right," she sighed. "The problem is that I'm fluent in so many."

"Oh, yes, Ruth," he murmured sarcastically, "I can see how most people would agree that, that's indeed a _huge _problem."

"_Harry_," she warned and he relented, realizing that she really wanted his help to decide.

"Which one feels closest to you? Which one means something?" he asked, softening his gaze to let her know that he was done teasing her.

"Greek," she whispered and looked at him uncertainly.

"Because of Nico," he probed gently.

"Yes," she nodded. She paused for a little while and then added, "It's funny really because we didn't speak a lot of Greek. George insisted that Nico speak English at home so that he practised, but sometimes, when George was on call and had to work late, I'd pick Nico up from school and he'd start telling me about his day in Greek. I never had the heart to stop him, and eventually, it became our little secret. We'd speak Greek at home when it was just the two of us and English when George was with us. It was very good for my Greek. Nico used to laugh at me when I made mistakes."

A wistful smile settled on her lips and he felt his heart ache for her. He knew what it was like to loose a son, and it was something he wouldn't wish on anyone, least of all the woman he loved more that he'd thought possible. He still felt guilty for his role in the loss of George and Nico, even though he knew that there was nothing he could have done to save the doctor. His fate was sealed the moment he was taken. All four of them were meant to die on that day. It was only a matter of time. He knew that, Ruth knew that, his team knew that. He did the only thing he could have done in the circumstances, bought them all as much time as he could, and because of his actions and those of his team, three of them had survived. But not George, and not Nico's relationship with Ruth.

"It's a very useful language to know," Ruth was saying now. "Especially if she wants to study medicine. It'll be easy for her to remember all the nomenclature because she'll understand what it all means."

He nodded and pulled her toward him, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her hair. "Greek it is then," he murmured.

"Thank you," she said after a moment. She knew that it couldn't be easy for him to hear about her life away from him, or about her pain at loosing Nico. On some level where logic did not enter into things, she knew that he felt responsible for what had happened in the same way that she did.

"I love you," he replied simply and then reached down and gave Fiona his finger. Their daughter grabbed it in her little fist and attempted to bring it to her mouth. Harry, however, kept pulling it back out of her grasp just before she succeeded. They watched her, smiling at her determination as she attempted her task again and again. "She's as stubborn as her mother," Harry teased.

"Oh, yes," Ruth replied sarcastically, "because her father is not stubborn at all."

Harry laughed and murmured, "We're in big trouble if she's got a double dose, Ruth."

Ruth smiled and replied, "Not if we always present a united front, Harry."

He nodded, and at last, let Fiona bring his finger to her mouth successfully. She chewed on it happily while making incoherent gurgling noises.

"What about you, Harry?" Ruth asked after a bit.

"No," he shook his head, immediately understanding the shift in conversation. "I'm sticking to English. I never liked German, I hate Russian, and I can't stand French. I've also forgotten almost all the Persian I knew, but I was never a big fan of that language either. "

"Spanish?" she ventured.

"No," he frowned. "Sorry, Ruth. Unlike you, I learned most foreign languages I know when I was stationed abroad. Consequently I have very few pleasant memories associated with any of them."

"Okay," she nodded, conceding defeat. "Two languages are good enough for a start."


	26. Chapter 26

_Same day, 24th October, 7 pm_

Fiona began to whimper. "Are you hungry, Fiona?" Ruth asked.

"Most likely, yes," Harry smiled. "It's past dinner time and I, for one, am starving."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ruth sighed. "I was going to start dinner, and then she woke up and I got a little distracted. I'm going to have to feed her first and then I'll-."

"Don't worry, Ruth," he interrupted and kissed her forehead tenderly. "I'll go order us some Chinese while you feed our little cherub."

"You're wonderful, Harry," she sighed and kissed his cheek.

"I have my moments," he admitted and got off the bed.

Forty minutes later, Fiona was asleep in her crib and Harry and Ruth were sharing a meal in the kitchen.

"So, any news today?" Ruth asked.

"Yes," he nodded, swallowing his mouthful before continuing. "It'll be official tomorrow once the panel convenes, but basically, I am to resign in disgrace citing what happened with my section head as the reason behind my decision to leave. No one gets the blame for the loss of Albany, seeing as the government has made a deal with the Chinese about it. Funds from an MI-5 shadow account will be used to pay me my pension in full, and it looks like I even get to keep the knighthood as all this has been arranged behind closed doors and no one wants to have it all aired in front of the Forfeiture Committee. So that should make you happy, Lady Pearce."

She chuckled and shook her head, "You know I'm as impressed by your knighthood as you are, Harry. However, I'll admit that when I disengage the rational part of my brain, it does give my romantic sensibilities a boost. It's a shame really that it doesn't come with a white stallion and a sword."

He laughed and replied, "I haven't ridden a horse in two decades, Ruth. I'm not sure either I, or the horse would survive the experience."

"But surely it's like riding a bicycle, Harry," she teased.

"No, Ruth," he replied with a suggestive smile. "That's sex you're thinking about."

She chuckled at his retort, though she couldn't prevent a blush from rising to her cheeks as she answered, "I am now."

His eyes darkened considerably as he regarded her with unmasked desire. It always amazed her that Harry could go from sub zero temperatures to boiling hot in less than a few seconds. Even when they'd had an argument and he was giving her the cold shoulder, a few well chosen words, gestures or touches could turn him into a fiery lover in an instant, something she was immensely grateful for, because apart from anything else, the make up sex was spectacular. And even more surprising was the fact that he only had to look at her like that, or touch her in a certain way, and she'd be right there with him, horny and wet in the blink of an eye.

"Anyway," he growled in a deep voice, "who says I don't have a sword?"

"You do?" she asked in surprise.

"Mmmmm," he hummed, leaning closer. "Don't you remember? You've been impaled on it enough times."

"_Harry!_" she exclaimed, blushing furiously at his lewd remark.

"What?" he asked innocently though his eyes were twinkling with a mixture of mischief and desire. He was a little surprised at his own daring in making such a bawdy comment. He'd never done it before with Ruth, but he found he thoroughly enjoyed her reaction. Unsettling her like this was a lot of fun, especially as she was usually so calm and in control.

"Well... I'd say it's more like a shotgun, seeing as it fires numerous small pellets," she replied quietly, her cheeks still flaming, and though she refused to let him fluster her into silence, she couldn't quite meet his eye as she said it.

He blinked in surprise and a sly smile creped across his lips. "You never fail to surprise me, Ruth," he murmured, his gaze softening as he looked at her with eyes full of love and admiration.

"Anyway," she whispered with a smile as she dared to look into his eyes. "I'd say that the analogy to a weapon of any kind is fundamentally flawed, seeing as it doesn't cause pain and suffering, but instead brings so much pleasure and creates life."

He watched her quietly, marvelling at her whit, her beauty, and her love for him that was so apparent in her eyes. It was incredibly clear to him in that moment just how much he didn't deserve her. She was good, kind, smart, sweet, and beautiful, and he was a hard, dark, cold, calculating, and damaged bastard. He didn't deserve her, but by God, he needed her, and he promised himself in that moment that he would endeavour to deserve her, to be more like the man she saw in him. He would do better.

"Where to today, Lady Pearce?" he murmured huskily as he watched her intently, wanting her, needing her. Lately they'd taken to making love all over the house, partly because Fiona now shared their room and they were worried about waking her, and partly because it was a lot of fun to vary the routine, if it could be called that when they'd only been together for a few months.

"Right here looks pretty good to me, Sir Harry," she replied and moved to straddle him swiftly, capturing his lips in hers.

* * *

_One week later, 1st November, 6 am_

He opened his eyes and immediately realized that something was different. For one thing, Ruth was awake. In fact, she was propped up on one elbow watching him as he slept. He frowned as he tried to work out what was going on, but a moment later, she told him.

"Happy birthday, Harry," she smiled and leant down to kiss his lips.

"Mmmmm," he hummed as he responded and slid his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss. When they broke apart a minute or so later, they were both breathless. Moving his hand to cup her cheek, he murmured, "I've dreamt of this birthday present for at least six years."

She smiled and then said, "You never told me, Harry. When did you know? About us."

"I was attracted to you from the start, Ruth. When I left your interview, I knew I wanted you, and I suppose, on a subconscious level, that's probably the reason that I agreed to let you join my team even though I was almost certain you were sent there to spy on my department." She frowned at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed on. "A couple of weeks later, you more than proved your worth as an analyst when you identified Noah Gleeson as our hacker simply from a quote, and I was suitably impressed. But I don't believe I knew that what I felt was more than sexual attraction until you started stalking John Fortescue," he admitted with a smile.

"I wasn't stalking him!" she exclaimed in indignation.

"What would you call it then?" he grinned.

"Well... I suppose it was a little stalkerish," she frowned. "I was lonely and so was he, and he was so much like me. We had the same interests and his voice was lovely," she sighed, then she smiled and added, "but not nearly as wonderful as yours. I loved you even then, you know. I didn't realize quite how much I'd fallen for you until Tom shot you. But I thought it would never work, so I tried to look elsewhere."

"Why did you think that?"

"Well initially, it was because I thought it was one sided. Then I realized that you wanted me, but I didn't think your interest would last long. I thought it was just lust since, after all, you did have a terrible reputation when it came to women. When I eventually realized that it might be more, I still couldn't convince myself that it would work out long term, mainly because you were my boss and I stood to loose so much if it didn't," she sighed. "Such a lot of time wasted."

"Not waisted," he replied. "We work because we trust each other, Ruth. This may come as a surprise, but I don't trust many people." She chuckled and he smiled as he continued, "In fact, I don't trust anyone else implicitly like I do you. It takes time to build that kind of faith in another person. Perhaps it wouldn't have lasted if we'd moved faster. We'll never know."


	27. Chapter 27

_Same day, 1st November, 11 am_

"Yes?" he answered the phone.

"Dad? It's Catherine."

"Catherine," he smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine, Dad. Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

"Are you free for lunch, Dad?"

"Are you in London?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes. I got in a couple of days ago. I'd like to buy you lunch. You know, for your birthday."

"You don't have to do that, but I'd love to meet you all the same. What time?"

"Does half past twelve work for you?"

"Yes. That's fine."

"Good. I'll meet you at the place we went to last time. Remember?"

"Yes," he smiled. "I remember."

"And Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He swallowed. "I love you too."

"I...um... I have something to tell you."

"And I you," he replied after a moment's hesitation.

"Okay. Good. See you there then. Bye."

"Bye, Catherine. See you in a bit."

* * *

_Same day, 1st November, 12:30 pm_

"Enjoy your lunch," Ruth smiled and kissed his cheek.

"I will," he nodded. "Are you sure you won't join us?"

"No, Harry," she shook her head. "I ate that sandwich half an hour ago, remember? And besides, you need to catch up with Catherine and break it to her gently."

"I'll try," he sighed. "I'll call you when we're done in case you're still around."

"All right," Ruth nodded, kissed his cheek once more, and walked away.

Harry watched her for a moment and then turned and walked in the opposite direction. Two blocks down the road he turned left and entered a small restaurant.

"Good afternoon, Sir. May I help you?" the hostess greeted him.

"I'm meeting someone," he answered and indicated Catherine, who was sitting at a table in the far corner of the room.

"Ah, of course, Sir. Right this way." She smiled and led him toward Catherine.

She looked nervous as he approached and he began to feel a little anxious. When he was a couple of metres away, she addressed the hostess, saying, "Would you please give us a moment?"

The girl looked surprised but didn't argue, simply saying, "Of course," as she put down Harry's menu on the table and turned to go back to her post by the door.

"Catherine..." he began uncertainly as he took another step forward.

"The thing I wanted to tell you about," she said and hesitated. He watched her apprehensively. "Well..." she murmured and stood up.

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the size of her abdomen. "You're... pregnant!" he stated in amazement.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm due mid January."

He was speechless for a few seconds, but then a broad smile appeared on his lips as he stepped forward, and in an unusual display of affection toward his daughter, he pulled her into his arms. "Catherine, that's wonderful. Congratulations," he murmured near her ear.

She hugged him back, surprised by his reaction, and felt tears spring to her eyes. He pulled back after a moment, and seeing her wet cheeks, he reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. "Thank you," she murmured as she wiped away her tears and muttered, "Bloody hormones." He laughed, a rich, warm sound that had her staring at him in surprise. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with my father?" she joked.

He smiled. "How about we take a seat, order our food, and I'll tell you all about it."

"Sounds like a plan," she nodded and sat down.

Once they'd placed their order and the waitress had taken away their menus, he asked, "So do I have a son-in-law that I don't know about, Catherine?"

She blushed and shook her head. "We're not married yet." Harry just raised his eyebrows at her and she sighed and continued. "Richard's a photographer and camera man. We met almost two years ago and he helped me film my latest documentary about Sudan. We just finished filming last week and now I have two months to get it canned before my life turns upside down."

"Do you love him?" Harry asked, taking her by surprise. She had expected him to grill her on his name, background and character, but not to ask about her _feelings_.

"Yes," she smiled. "I do. He's wonderful, Dad. So talented and supportive. We work so well together. It's as if he knows what I'm thinking and vis versa. I went down with a nasty bit of flu when we were over there, and I was really worried about getting behind in filming. He said that he'd make sure that it got done and that I was to rest, and it was wonderful to have someone there whom I could trust to get the shots I wanted. Last time I got sick, I didn't get better for almost a month as I kept working because there was no one I could trust to do the job well."

Harry smiled. "What?" she asked, but he shook his head and absently lifted his left hand to cover his mouth, unable to put into words the similarity between his feelings for Ruth and what Catherine had just described. Catherine's eyes widened in disbelief. "Dad! You got married?!"

Harry lowered his hand slowly and glanced down at his wedding ring. "Yes," he nodded.

"When? To whom?"

"In August," he answered. "Ruth and I got married in August."

"Ruth?" Catherine said in amazement. "Not _the _Ruth?"

"Yes," he smiled, pleased that his daughter remembered.

"But I thought she went away... forever," she said in a puzzled voice as she recalled the heartbroken expression on her father's face when he'd told her about the woman he loved, the woman who'd sacrificed everything to save him from prison. He'd been so uncharacteristically open on that night, about five years ago now, when she'd turned up on his doorstep unexpectedly. He'd also been completely wasted, which probably explained why he'd confided in his daughter at the time.

"She returned two years ago, but things were... difficult for a while," he tried to explain. "And then..." he smiled at the memory of what Ros had done.

"What?"

"It would seem that our colleagues got tired of our inability to work things out, and they decided to play Cupid," he chuckled.

"Gosh! What did they do?" Catherine asked, intrigued.

Harry cleared his throat and looked down at his hands as he murmured, "They put Ruth in my bed when we both passed out from drink at the office Christmas party." Catherine began to laugh. He lifted his eyes to watch her and smiled, amazed at how the sound of her laughter hadn't changed much since she was a little girl. Then bracing himself for her reaction he added, "You may think it's funny now, but I'm not sure you'll be pleased when I tell you that you now have a baby sister as a result of their devious plan."

"What?!" she exclaimed, sobering at once and staring at him in shock.

"Fiona Rosalind Evershed Pearce," he stated calmly. "Born on the 18th of September, at 11:55 pm, weighing 3210 grams."

"Blimey!" Catherine exclaimed lifting her hands to cover her mouth. "_Dad!_"

He said nothing, waiting for the shock to wear off. He never expected her to be able to process such a monumental revelation quickly.

"Gosh, Dad. I don't know what to say... I mean... congratulations. I... Can I see her?"

He blinked in relief and nodded. "Of course."

"When?" she said eagerly. "And Ruth, when can I meet Ruth?"

"Are you free tomorrow evening?" he asked. "You and Richard could come round for dinner at my place, or lunch if that works better. I'd like to meet him."

"I'm free, but I'll have to check with Richard," she nodded. "Hang on, I'll call him." She dialled his number as the waitress appeared with their food.

He watched her, taking in her radiant face and the way her eyes sparkled as she talk to the man she loved. He hoped that this man would loved her, support her, and cherish her always, that they would build a love as deep and steadfast as his and Ruth's had proved to be.

His thoughts were interrupted when she covered the mouth piece and said to him, "He's busy, but he could do tea around four?"

"Fine," he nodded.

"What? Really? You can meet at four? What about work?" she asked in surprise.

"I'm retired, Catherine," he smiled. "Did I forget to mention that part?"

She stared at him for a moment, and then shook her head at him and smiled as she turned back to her phone call.


	28. Chapter 28

_Next day, 2nd November, 4 pm_

"I'll get it," he called as he moved to answer the door.

"Hi, Dad," Catherine smiled when the door opened, and stepping forward, she embraced him and kissed his cheek.

It seemed that his reaction yesterday to the news of her pregnancy had unlocked a warmth toward him that she'd kept in check for years, and he returned her embrace gladly. "Hello, Catherine," he said as he released her and stepped back to let her enter his house.

She stepped through the door and was closely followed by a man of about the same height as Harry. With an efficiency that he'd perfected in his years as a spook, Harry took in everything about him at a glance, from his dark brown hair, swept back in a pony-tail, and keen, chocolate eyes, to his strong, though rather slim, athletic build. Aside from the long hair, Harry liked what he saw. The man his daughter had chosen had character. Time would tell if he was the right choice for her, but as first impressions go, it was a good one.

"Dad," Catherine said, "this is Richard. Richard, my father, Harry."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry," Richard smiled and extended his hand toward him.

He hid his nerves well, Harry observed though he could easily tell that he was tense. Harry new that he could be intimidating, and having only been retired a week, he doubted that he'd lost any of the aura of power that he knew surrounded him. Harry shook Richard's hand and was pleased to find that he had a firm grip and met his eye squarely. "Likewise," he replied. "Come in. Ruth's just checking on Fiona."

Richard helped Catherine take her coat off, much to Harry's approval. Stepping forward, Harry took it from his hand and hung it on the hook behind him. Richard murmured his thanks and proceeded to remove his own coat, which he let Harry take from him also.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Catherine apologised. "I have to take my shoes off; my feet are killing me."

She slipped out of her shoes and left them under the coats as Harry frowned and murmured, "Hang on. I'm sure we have some slippers you could borrow. Your feet will freeze."

"I'm fine, Dad," Catherine objected and turned toward the sitting room pulling Richard with her.

Harry, however, was not to be deterred, and moments later, he entered the room carrying two pairs of slippers, one blue and fluffy and the other grey and practical. "Which do you prefer?" he asked.

"Dad!" she sighed in exasperation. "I don't need any, thank you."

"Right, blue and fluffy it is then," he winked and put them down by her feet as she sat on the sofa.

Richard chuckled, and when Harry turned to look at him, he murmured, "Sorry, it's just that she never listens to me when I ask her to wear footwear either. You'd be surprised how many arguments we have about it."

"She never liked to wear shoes," Harry confided. "It was a source of constant battles when she was little. We'd force her to put the shoes on, but the moment our backs were turned, she'd take them off and run around barefoot." Catherine watched him, a fond smile playing on her lips. Turning to her he asked, "I remember one time I asked you why you didn't want to wear shoes. You were probably about three or four at the time. Do you remember what you answered?"

"No," Catherine shook her head.

"You said that they were too heavy, clunky, pinchy and ungrippy," he smiled.

Catherine and Richard laughed. "I get heavy," Richard said as he turned to Catherine and rubbed her knee affectionately, "but clunky, pinchy and ungrippy?"

"They got in my way," she explained. "They pinched my toes and didn't work nearly as well as my bare feet for climbing, my favourite occupation at the time." She turned to look at Harry and said, "I didn't know you remembered that."

"I remember a lot of things, Catherine," he smiled, his eyes twinkling at her in pleasure.

A soft clearing of the throat had them all turning their attention toward the door. "Hello," Ruth smiled and stepped into the room. Richard got up straight away and turned to help Catherine to her feet also. "Oh, no. Don't get up," Ruth objected as she came to stand next to Harry, but they ignored her.

He turned and his eyes softened like they always did when he looked at her. "Ruth," he said, "this is my daughter, Catherine and her partner, Richard. Catherine, Richard, my wife, Ruth."

Ruth shook hands with Richard first, who was standing closest to her. She was pleased to see the sparkle in his intelligent, brown eyes. She was a firm believer that a person's eyes told you a lot about them, and she like Richard already. They murmured 'pleased to meet you' to each other and smiled, before Ruth turned to Catherine and offered her hand in greeting. Catherine, however, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ruth in a warm embrace, taking both Ruth and Harry by surprise. "I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Ruth," she smiled.

"Finally?" Ruth asked in an effort to distract as she was momentarily overcome by Catherine's affectionate greeting.

"Dad's mentioned you before. He was pretty cut up about it, when you left a few years ago," she admitted with a quick uncertain look at her father.

Ruth smiled and glanced at Harry. Catherine's admission had made him quite uncomfortable, she noted though she was sure no one else was able to tell, so she replied lightly, "We both were, but luckily we were given a second chance."

Wisely Catherine refrained from making a joke about their 'second chance' and said instead, "Is Fiona sleeping?"

Ruth nodded. "I'm afraid she is. I thought we could give her a little more time and see if she wakes up on her own, but I promise to get her before you leave if she doesn't."

"I'll go put the kettle on for tea," Harry murmured, and touching Ruth's elbow lightly as he passed her, he left the room. He and Catherine had already caught up yesterday, and he knew that he needed to give Ruth and Catherine a chance to become acquainted. At the same time, he also knew that Richard needed to relax a little in order to open up and give him a glimpse of the man he was, which meant leaving him with Ruth also. Harry knew that he could break even the toughest of men, but his interrogation techniques, he was sure, would not meet with the approval of either his daughter or his wife. Subtler methods were needed, and Ruth was perfect for the job even if she didn't know she was doing it. She probably suspected what he was up to though, he thought with a smile as he flicked the kettle on to boil and turned toward the fridge. She was good at figuring these things out, and especially, at figuring _him _out_._

* * *

_Same day, 2nd November, 5 pm_

They were having a good time. She'd found plenty to talk about with Catherine, particularly about her pregnancy and travels. Richard had also relaxed somewhat and had shared quite a bit about himself and his interest in photography. He offered to take some pictures of her and Harry with Fiona, which delighted Ruth. He was a good man, she decided. Steady and caring, and deeply in love with Catherine; it was obvious from the way he looked at her.

"Are you using cloth or disposable nappies, Ruth?" Catherine asked as their conversation drifted back to babies.

"Disposable at the moment," Ruth replied. "I did read about cloth nappies though and was thinking of trying them, but things have been rather hectic since Fiona's birth and I haven't had the energy to try something new."

"You should definitely look into them," Catherine said eagerly. "They make potty training much easier later and they're healthier for Fiona; no chemicals. _And _they're much better for the environment, even if you take into account all the water that you use for washing them. Plus I've always thought it's disgusting how disposable nappies result in raw, human waste going directly into landfill without being treated. With cloth nappies, the poo ends up in the sewage which is where it belongs."

"Catherine," Richard murmured quietly, "I don't think that this is the best time to discuss this issue. We _are_ eating after all."

"Oh, right," Catherine laughed. "Sorry." She glanced at Harry who was looking distinctly unimpressed with the turn the conversation had taken, and gave him a sheepish grin. Then she turned to Ruth and asked, "Does he change Fiona? I bet he doesn't."

Ruth smiled and glanced at her husband. "No, he doesn't," she admitted, "but he's great when Fiona wakes up at night and won't go back to sleep. I'm sure he'd walk with her for hours in she needed it, and I confess that I don't mind the nappy changing if I can get a good night's rest."

Harry smiled at her softly. "It rarely takes more that a few minutes," he confessed. "She's an easy customer, unlike her big sister. I seem to recall spending hours trying to get _her_ back to sleep at night."

Catherine laughed and replied, "I'm sure that it has nothing to do with me being difficult and everything to do with your technique, Dad. After all you have much more experience with getting babies to sleep now, thanks to me."

"Very true," Harry chuckled. "Perhaps you're right."

"You need to tell Richard your secret, Dad," Catherine smiled. "I'm sure I'll need a good night's sleep too once your grandchild's born."

"It's a closely guarded secret," he teased, "but I'm sure I could bring myself to share it with my grandchild's father when the time comes, as long as he promises to guard it well."

"I will, Harry," Richard smiled. "After all, I wouldn't want to outlive my usefulness, would I?"

Harry laughed, much to Richard's delight, and replied, "No. That would not be wise."

Fiona chose that moment to wake up and they all heard her gurgling to herself through the baby monitor. Ruth went upstairs to get her, and after changing her, she carried her into the sitting room and came to sit down next to Catherine.

"Hi, Fiona," Catherine cooed and took her into her arms when Ruth offered to hand her over. "I'm Catherine your big sister and this is your uncle Richard." Fiona studied them intently with her big, blue eyes and then smiled as she made a gurgling noise in her throat. "Oh, Dad, Ruth, she's adorable," Catherine smiled in delight as she looked up at both of them.

"I know," Ruth replied with pride.

"She has your eyes, Ruth," Richard commented as he pressed his finger into Fiona's hand and felt her grab hold of it with her little fist.

"And Dad's hair," Catherine teased. "Blond and not much of it."

Ruth began to laugh and Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head in mock irritation.

"What?" Catherine asked, sensing that there was something more to their reaction than plain mirth.

Ruth said nothing, but Harry eventually volunteered, "Ruth said the exact, same thing just after she was born."

"Oh," Catherine laughed. "That's funny because I said the same thing to Graham..." she tailed off and quickly turned back to Fiona.

"Graham?" Harry asked in a deceptively calm voice. "How is your brother?"

Catherine lifted her eyes to him briefly before looking back down at her sister. "I saw him yesterday actually," she replied. "He seems fine. He's working hard, really hard. He has two jobs actually."

"Really," Harry replied sceptically and was rewarded with a frown from Ruth. She'd picked up on the falsely cheerful tone in Catherine's voice and knew that something was going on that Catherine didn't want to talk about. She knew Harry had picked up on it too, and her frown was a subtle reminded to him to pull himself together so that they could figure out what it was. Harry took the hint. "I'm glad to hear he's doing better."

"Actually, he isn't," Catherine replied, and seeing her father's face darken, she hastily added. "He's clean. He has been for more than two years now. But he could use some help getting a better paid job with better hours. He... um..." She turned her eyes toward Richard in a silent plea.

He nodded and cleared his throat. "This should really be coming from Graham," he began and a dark shadow crossed his face momentarily. "He shouldn't be leaving Catherine to say this."

"Richard," she pleaded and placed her hand on his arm gently.

"Fine," he nodded. "I'm just saying..."

"What's going on?" Harry asked, his face a mask of calm control.

Richard turned to him and replied. "There's no easy way to say this... Graham fathered a child about a year and a half ago." Harry stared at him and Ruth gasped. "He's a nice boy. His name is James, James Edward after two of his great-grandfathers. When Graham's girlfriend discovered she was pregnant, she turned to him for help, and to give him credit, he pulled himself together pretty quickly. He made sure that both he and Claire checked into a drug treatment program and they remained clean once they got out. He got a job and worked hard and when the baby was born, he took to being a father like a duck to water. Unfortunately for him and Jamie, Claire didn't do so well. She lasted about eight months before she went back to drugs. Graham found out quickly and gave her an ultimatum. She moved out the next day and left him to take care of Jamie on his own. He's done remarkably well considering, but I still think he should have told you this himself."

Harry had got up while Richard was speaking and walked over to the window. He stared out of it now, lost in a tumult of thoughts and emotions. Ruth watched him, her heart breaking for him. He'd been a grandfather for more than a year without knowing it. She could well imagine the turmoil this created inside him. Catherine was also watching her father anxiously, leaning into Richard's side as he slipped his arm around her shoulder in support.

Fiona began to whimper, sensing the underlying currents of emotion in the room. Ruth turned to Catherine and gave her a small encouraging smile before taking Fiona from her and sliding her into the sling she wore around her shoulder. Then, leaving Catherine in Richard's capable hands, she walked over to stand by Harry, slipping her hand from his right elbow down to his forearm and squeezing it lightly. He turned his head toward her slightly, and she could see the sheen of tears in his eyes. There was no wind to blame it on today, she thought as she rested her head lightly on his shoulder. Fiona stared up at her father from her place in the sling and gurgled at him, giving him a gummy smile.

"Hi, beautiful," he murmured softly and turned his body toward her to give her his left, index finger. She grasped it in her little hand and after a couple of failed attempts, she brought it to her mouth where she attempted to chew on it. "You need some teeth first," he commented with a smile. Then he reached over and pulled his youngest daughter out of the sling and cradled her in his arms. Ruth squeezed his arm once more and he understood what she was trying to say. He needed to reassure his other daughter too. So turning around, he walked back to his seat and sat down, saying lightly, "Christmases should be fun again with all these babies around."

"Yes," Catherine replied from her place in Richard's arms.

"Do you think your brother would welcome my help if I looked around for some jobs for him?"

"I think he'd appreciate it," Catherine smiled, pleased that Harry was not angry at her for keeping her brother's secret. "Yesterday I asked him if I could talk to you about him when I saw you today, and he said I could tell you what I liked. He needs help, Dad. He's working himself to death and poor Jamie doesn't see him as much as he needs."

Harry nodded slowly. "I'll see what I can do."


	29. Chapter 29

_Same day, 2nd November, 10 pm_

He got in bed, switching the bedside lamp off before lying back against the pillows. Next to him, Ruth turned on her side to face him and slid her hand up his arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he replied, lifting his arm toward her in invitation.

She shuffled closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder, sighing happily as he wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. They were silent for some time and then true to form, Harry began to open up. This was the time of day when they talked, when they shared their thoughts and feelings.

"I let him down so badly, Ruth. I feel..." he paused unable to find the words to describe the depth of emotion he was experiencing. "He needed me, and every time, I've let him down."

"Perhaps, Harry," she replied quietly, "but you cannot blame yourself for all that he's suffered. An awful lot of what he's been through is self-inflicted. You gave what you could at the time. You're giving what you can now. That's all you can ask of yourself."

"I could have given more, Ruth," he sighed, his voice taking on an anguished tone. "I could have given more."

"No, Harry," she argued gently. "It's always easy to say that in retrospect, but it's not true. You couldn't have given more at that time in your life. You can now, but you couldn't then. And besides, you can never be sure that more is what Graham needed. Catherine managed and maybe Graham just couldn't. Maybe he fell into the wrong crowd at school or had some other bad experience. Maybe if you'd given more he would have stayed away from drugs and alcohol, and maybe he wouldn't have. Maybe if you'd helped him with Jamie a year ago he would have been better off, and maybe what he suffered through in the last year is exactly what he needed to get his priorities straight. Perhaps it has given him an insight into how much you can love your child even when you don't have the time to be with him."

He nodded silently and let her reassuring words comfort him. "I'll call Malcolm tomorrow and see if he can help find him a well paid job," he murmured.

"That sounds like a plan," she smiled and kissed his chest.

"I love you," he whispered as he rolled a little toward her, threading the fingers of his free hand through her hair, massaging the base of her head, and capturing her gaze with his own as she tilted her head back in pleasure. "So very much."

"I love you more," she answered with a mischievous smile, noting the sheen of tears in his eyes.

"Oh?" he smiled. "How'd you figure that out?"

"Well," she teased, "I died for you, Harry. You merely gave away a state secret."

He chuckled and murmured, "I attacked the head of the JIC with a broken wine glass and almost went to prison for you... _twice_, as well as throwing away my career to save your life."

She smiled softly and replied, "I carried your daughter to term inside my body and gave birth to her after eleven hours of, by no means easy, labour without the use of any pain killers."

"All right," he conceded just before he rolled on top of her. "You win." Then he kissed her with all the love and passion he felt for her and it took her breath away.

* * *

_Two weeks later, 18th November, 10 pm_

He sat in front of the telephone preparing himself for possibly the most difficult conversation he'd had in years. The most important thing is to remain calm, he told himself. He took a couple of deep breaths and then lifted up the receiver and dialled the number.

"Yes?" a male voice answered on the third ring.

"Graham?" Harry asked.

"Yes?"

"Hello. How are you? It's Dad."

There was a pause. "Hi," he said eventually in a level voice, devoid of emotion.

This is good, Harry thought, he hasn't put the phone down yet and he's not yelling. "I saw your sister the other day," he began. "She suggested I call you. Said that you told her it would be okay."

"Yes," he acknowledged, but made no effort to help him out in this conversation.

"I understand that you're looking for a better job," he ventured after a pause. "Better pay, better hours."

"I am," Graham replied as a small amount of emotion creped into his voice. Harry wasn't quite sure which emotion it was, but his voice was no longer colourless.

"I have a friend," Harry continued carefully. "He knows someone who's looking for a hard working, reliable, young man to work in his business. It's a family owned enterprise in landscaping. He's looking for someone to start in the new year so he can learn the ropes before things kick into full swing in the spring. I could e-mail you the details if you're interested."

"Thank you," Graham replied. "I'm interested."

"Okay, good. Would you give me the address then?"

"Sure. You ready?"

"Yes," Harry replied and jotted down the address, reading it back to him to double check he'd got it correct. "Right then," he murmured when he'd finished. "I'd better let you go. It was good to hear your voice, Graham."

"Thanks," he replied.

"I'll... I hope to see you sometime soon." He paused, uncertain if what he had to say would be welcome. Then deciding to say it anyway, he added, "I love you, Son. Take care."

"Bye," Graham replied his voice a little tighter, more controlled.

"Goodbye." Harry heard the click as his son ended the call and he lowered the phone into it's cradle with a sigh. He leant back in his chair, and bringing his hands up to his face, he rubbed his eyes briefly before he let his hands fall back down into his lap. A light tapping on the door-frame had him raising his head and turning toward the door where he saw Ruth standing in the doorway smiling gently at him. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hello," she replied, walking into the room, round his desk, and coming to stand next to him. He spun his chair round to face her and leant forward, resting his head against her abdomen as she lifted her hands to stroke his hair. "It's a start, Harry. It's a start," she murmured.


	30. Chapter 30

_Ten days later, 29th November, 4 pm_

She stood in the doorway watching him stare blankly at the wall, lost in thought. He'd been like this for the past few days, distracted, his mind elsewhere. If he hadn't also been unusually effusive in his declarations of love and more passionate in his love making, she might have been worried that he was getting bored with her. As things stood, she was positive that it was something else, work related, or possibly, lack of work related. Perhaps a belated reaction to early retirement? She had been hoping that he would tell her what was going on without her having to ask him, but this was getting ridiculous now. She needed to know.

"Harry?" she murmured softly as she walked into the room, but he didn't hear her. This was worse than she thought. Frowning, she sat down on the sofa next to him and touched his knee, making him jump.

"Oh, Ruth," he said, lifting his hand to his heart and turning toward her. "You'll give me a heart attack one of these days."

"What's going on, Harry?" she asked earnestly, ignoring his attempt at a joke. "You haven't been yourself since Monday. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Ruth," he replied in a level voice. "I'm just a little tired." He leaned over to kiss her, but she turned her head away so that his lips pressed against her cheek instead of her lips. She was not letting him off the hook that easily.

When he'd pulled back, she turned to look at him and said, "Don't do this, Harry. Don't shut me out. I know something's bothering you and I want to help. You have no right to keep me out of it. We're a team, you and I." She watched him for a few moments waiting for him to say something, and when he didn't, she got up and moved toward the door, stopping in the doorway to look at him and adding, "I'm not going to wait forever, Harry." And with that, she disappeared into the kitchen to make some tea.

Harry felt fear grip his insides at her last words and for the first time he considered the possibility that she might leave him if he _didn't_ tell her what was going on. Once again he was stuck between a rock and a hard place; if he told her she'd probably leave, if he didn't she might leave. He rubbed his face with his hands. He needed to think. He got up, and slipping on his shoes and grabbing his coat, he called to Ruth that he was going out to buy some milk, which he knew they needed, and left the house.

* * *

_Same day, 29th November, 5 pm_

He found her in the kitchen cooking dinner with Fiona sleeping against her chest in her wrap.

"Milk," he murmured, "and some apples and bread."

"Thanks," Ruth smiled as she turned toward him, hoping that his walk had cleared his head and he was ready to talk.

"Towers wants me to come back to work for a month," he stated. There was no point in beating around the bush any longer. This was the part he would have shared with her anyway; it was the rest of the information that was going to be tricky.

"What?" she asked in surprise. "Why?"

"Apparently, there are some talks going on with Russia. A strategic partnership resulting in new trade and information exchange agreements, including intelligence sharing," he explained with distaste. "He actually said that the aim was a new special relationship... with Russia."

"But what has that got to do with you?" Ruth asked after a moment as she digested this information.

"The head of the Russian delegation is Minister for International Development, Ilia Gavrik, who was my KGB counterpart in Berlin during the cold war, and he's requested my presence in the meetings," Harry explained. "Towers wants to reinstate me as Head of Section D for a few weeks until this deal is signed."

"How on earth is he planning to accomplish that? Surely after resigning in disgrace as you put it, it will be political suicide to attempt to reinstated you even for a few weeks!"

Harry smiled, pleased with her accurate analysis of the situation. "Apparently, my replacement, Jacob Abbot, is keen to take over as Head of section A since Harold Smith is retiring, which leaves a temporary vacancy in Section D. They were planning to give the job to Erin Watts, a young and rising star in the world of espionage, but Towers insisted that she needed some experience as Section Head before taking up the position, conveniently creating a temporary vacancy for me to fill. He also informed me that, if I take the position, he will be able to remove the stain on my record created by Albany, and I'll begin receiving my pension and other benefits legitimately through the proper channels."

She studied him closely and realized that there must be more to this, and that he apparently wasn't ready to share it with her yet. She knew Harry didn't care about his record that much. There were plenty of stains on it already without taking Albany into account, and she was sure that getting his pension through the proper channels was not much of an incentive either. Something else entirely was going on and she suspected it had more to do with the Russian partnership than anything else Towers was offering. "What are you going to do?" she asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

"I've agreed to do it provided that it's all finished before Christmas," he murmured, a little uncertainty creeping into his voice as he braced himself for her reaction. He wanted to make it clear that he didn't want to go back permanently, so he'd mentioned the upcoming holidays. He was enjoying retirement and living with Ruth and Fiona immensely. In fact, he really didn't want to be doing this at all, but after the message he'd got from Max Witt today, he felt he had no choice.

She remained silent as she turned back to her cooking, washing some veggies for the salad. It was only when they were sitting down to their meal that she turned the conversation back to his reinstatement, saying, "If you must, Harry, you must. I won't pretend that I like it or that I think it's a good idea, but I won't stop you."

He reached across the table for her hand and was relieved when she didn't pull it away. "I won't change my mind about retirement, Ruth. I don't want to go back, but at the same time, I can't refuse Towers. I owe him."

She nodded and they turned back to their food and the conversation onto neutral topics.


	31. Chapter 31

**A lot of the dialogue in the next few chapters has been borrowed from Spooks, however, I've altered it a little to fit this story. I'm assuming that events unfolded along the same lines as in the series with a few important differences, for example, Ruth and Harry are much closer in this fic, there is more trust between them, and Ruth is confident in Harry's love for her. So I'm planning to rewrite most of the scenes with Ruth and Harry, but not the rest of the events in the first few episodes of Season 10. I hope that it all makes sense. Please let me know if any part is confusing. Thanks again for your reviews and support. S.C.  
**

* * *

_Two days later, 1st December, 8 pm_

He unlocked the door and stepped into the house, slipping out of his coat and hanging it on the hook behind the door. He slid a tired hand across his face and moved further into the house, placing his keys on the table in the hall. And that's when he felt the hair on the back of his neck rise up, followed by the familiar rush of adrenaline. Something was different, out of place; something was wrong. Fear gripped his gut and all he could think about was Ruth and Fiona. He moved slowly through to the sitting room, walking up to the decanter and pouring himself a drink. He could sense the intruder behind him and he could also sense Ruth's fear.

"There are people already on their way," he stated calmly, his back still turned to the intruder. "I've triggered an alarm."

"No, you haven't," a voice with an unmistakeably Russian accent replied.

He turned slowly with his drink in hand and recognised one of the men who'd been tailing him since the day before yesterday, sitting at the dining table. It hadn't surprised him that he'd been put under surveillance since he'd accepted his temporary reinstatement. He knew that several of his enemies were looking for any excuse to have him disposed of in a more satisfying way than they had managed with Albany. They were just waiting in the shadows to pounce the moment he made the slightest mistake.

His eyes travelled over the stranger and then moved to his left to look at Ruth, who was holding a sleeping Fiona and sitting across from the Russian, the picture of calm control. Her eyes, however, betrayed her fear and he held her gaze for a moment, trying to reassure her before he turned back to the Russian. "Hello again," he murmured. "You were in the park."

"I didn't expect you'd recognise me," he replied with contempt. "The last time you saw me I was a child."

Harry's eyes widened slightly and he took a few steps forward, prompting the Russian to get up and point his gun at him. "I know about my mother, Tourmaline," he growled.

"Sasha?" Harry asked in disbelief. He looked at the gun. "That's a Stechkin. You're FSB?"

"Tell me one thing before I kill you," Sasha murmured, prompting a sharp intake of breath from Ruth. "Do you ever think about the lives you ruin?"

"I don't know what you mean," Harry replied, taking a step toward him determined to draw the Russian's attention away from Ruth and Fiona.

"Stop!" he exclaimed causing Harry to pause. "She's a spy for the west. Turned by you to spy on her country... and her husband, my father. Your best Russian asset since eighty one," he said in a voice brimming with emotion.

Harry chuckled and replied lightly, "Someone's spun you quite a yarn."

Sasha raised his eyebrows, and keeping the gun trained on Harry, he pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. "I found this six weeks ago," he stated and placed it on the table for Harry, adding, "She'd hidden it. A request for information from you."

Harry stepped forward, and placing his drink of the table, he picked up the paper before opening it to read the message. "Tourmaline speak through Sharecropper. Urgent update needed. Remain safe. Peregrine," it read.

"Your codes, your cypher, your MI-5 name," Sasha continued as Harry read the note. "It led me to everything else. Do you deny you wrote it?"

Harry stared at the piece of paper in his hands and glanced at Ruth. "I don't think I can," he sighed turning his back on Sasha and pacing away from him. He stopped in front of the window and said, "You could have shot me the moment I came in here, which makes me think that perhaps killing me is not your only option."

"No," Sasha confirmed. "Just the most attractive," he added moving toward him.

"And of course, you're not stupid enough to believe that I'm the only person who knows that your mother is still active," Harry continued unperturbed as he turned to face him once more.

Sasha lowered the gun, and after a few seconds, demanded with emotion, "You burn her file, sever all contact, and _then _you can live... and so can they." He pointed his gun vaguely at Ruth and Fiona.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the Russian and tightened the muscles in his jaw, causing his mouth to form a grim line and his chin to jut out in anger, but he remained silent.

Sasha raised the gun to Harry's face again and murmured, "I'm part of my parent's protection detail. I'll be watching you. You send her a message. You tell her that her work for you is complete and you say goodbye. She's given you thirty years; let her go, or I'll be seeing you again."

Then with the gun still trained on Harry, he backed out of the room and left the house. When they heard the door click closed, Harry strode quickly to the window and checked that the Russian had left the house. Then he turned round and moved swiftly to Ruth's side, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked in a hoarse voice as he pulled back to look at her.

She shook her head, sighing as she leant into his solid strength, still holding her sleeping daughter in her arms. Minutes passed as they stood leaning into each other, grateful that they had all survived once more. Eventually, Harry led her over to the sofa, and taking Fiona in his arms, he told her to sit down while he put their child in bed.

When he returned a few minutes later, Ruth was not in the living room, but sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of warm, sweet tea. He sat down across from her, cradling the mug of tea she'd made for him in his hands and wondering where to begin. He pulled the message Sasha Gavrik had given him out of his pocket and slid it across the table toward her. Ruth glanced at him and then picked it up.

"This information exceeds your security clearance, Ruth, but I owe you an explanation. Tourmaline was an asset of mine in Berlin. Her real name is Elena Gavrik, Minister Gavrik's wife," he said eventually while looking down at his drink.

"And you're still running her?" Ruth asked in surprise after a moment. "Harry, if Gavrik finds out that his wife is still spying for us-"

Harry shook his head and looked up at her. "I'm not running Elena. I didn't write that. Someone posing as me contacted Elena via Max Witt, a former cut-out, who incidentally is now dead."

"But that means they know all your codes," Ruth frowned in alarm. "That's all your MI-5 communication protocols. That's a breach at the highest level."

He nodded and added, "And it means that Elena has probably passed on important intel to this impostor. I need to talk to her to find out what."

"That's too risky. If she's exposed, the partnership falls through," she murmured.

"What other choice do I have?" he sighed.

She studied him for a moment and then nodded her agreement. "What about Sasha Gavrik?" she asked. He looked away for a moment, but not before she glimpsed the pained look in his eyes. An ominous feeling took hold of her, and she felt her heart rate speed up and the blood drain from her face, but she forced herself to go on, to face this. "We need to put him out of action." He nodded silently, still refusing to look at her, so she murmured softly, "What aren't you telling me, Harry?"

He took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shaky stream of air. Then he whispered, "Elena wasn't just an asset. We were lovers."

"And Sasha?" she pressed when he fell silent.

"He's my son," he murmured so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.

Tears sprung to her eyes and she had to fight heard to stop them from falling. Minutes passed as they both avoided each other's gaze, Harry convinced that she would never forgive him, and Ruth wondering if she would ever really know this man that she loved so much. How many more secrets like this did he have? And what else was he not telling her? Had it been just a honey trap, or had it been more? Had he loved her? Was this the reason for his recent distracted air? The return of his lover rather than his reluctance to return to MI-5? Did this mean that he still harboured feelings for this woman? So many questions which he would probably not answer, she thought and felt a stab of pain in her heart.

Eventually Ruth said calmly, "You burnt her because of your relationship."

He nodded and murmured, "It sounds simple when you put it like that."

"Nothing," she exclaimed, her anger and hurt briefly coming through in her voice, "about this is simple, Harry..." She was silent for long moments, but eventually, she sighed and added quietly, "but we can unpick it... together."

He raised his eyes to her face for the first time, and she saw the hope shining in their depths and knew that it was going to be all right. Somehow or other they were going to get through this too, just like they'd survived three years apart, George and Nico, and countless other things. He had secrets; she'd known that about him when she'd met him, had known it for years, and it still hadn't stopped her from loving him. After all, they'd only really been together less than six months. It was such a small amount of time compared to the years Harry had spend hiding his thoughts, his emotions, his secrets from everyone around him. He was making progress; he was sharing more of his thoughts, his emotions, himself. Perhaps with time he would trust her with his past as well as his present and his future. Perhaps this thing with the Gavriks would show him that he could trust her with anything. They were Ruth and Harry; they were meant to be together. Whoever this woman was, he no longer loved her. She was certain of that now, and she forgave him for the rest in that instant, wondering briefly if there was anything he could have done that she would not be able to forgive. She hoped not; she fervently hoped not because she didn't want to loose him, not now, not after everything. "Why didn't you tell me, Harry?" she asked gently.

"I almost did once," he sighed, "but I was a coward. I was scared that you'd leave me if you knew... Ruth, there are so many things I've done that I'm not proud of, that I would despise anyone else for doing... I lost all respect for myself a long time ago, and I couldn't bear it if I lost yours too, if I lost your love."

"Harry," she replied, "I know that the man you are now, today, is very different from the one you were in your youth, and the fact that you feel remorse for what you did makes you fundamentally a good man. That's the man I love... and so long as you don't do anything completely out of character, you will not loose my love or my respect. What you do now, that's what matters."

He nodded and reached for her hand across the table, linking their fingers together. "I won't let him hurt you or Fiona," he said fiercely. "You're right; as much as it pains me to say it, we have to get him out of the way; some kind of non-fatal injury perhaps."

She nodded and they were silent for some time. Eventually Ruth asked, "I have to ask, Harry, do you have any more-"

"No," he replied firmly and then added after a short pause, "At least, non that I've been informed about."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed and shook her head in exasperation.

"Well, a man can never truly know how many children he has, Ruth," he replied a little defensively. "It's not how the biology of it works, and it's not as if I wasn't careful... most of the time, anyway."

There was nothing she could say to that, so instead she asked, "How come you never extracted Elena Gavrik?"

He frowned and murmured, "Plans were made for her defection, but nothing every came of it."

"Why?" she asked, sensing that there was something he was holding back.

He sighed and replied, "I was overruled and the extraction cancelled. I never turned up at the meeting point."

"So now you feel guilty," she said after watching him carefully for a few moments.

He nodded and looked away, replying quietly, "I let them down. I should have been there for them, especially the boy, Sasha. I should have done it anyway."

Ruth watched him anxiously as she saw the torment in his eyes, and she knew that this was not good. Harry was emotionally compromised, something she'd seen only a few times: when Catherine had been mixed up in their investigation into the November Committee, when she'd been accused of Maudsley's murder, and of course, Albany. An emotionally compromised Harry took big risks and sometimes did really stupid things, and consequently, she was worried... very worried.


	32. Chapter 32

**I'm not sure if this is believable, but I had to find a way to get Ruth back on the Grid. I hope this works. Happy New Year to you all. S.C.  
**

* * *

_Next day, 2nd December, 2 pm_

Ruth opened the door to the small café, stepping in from the cold and quickly scanning her surroundings. There were only three tables in the shop and all three were occupied, but only one of them had a single, young man sitting at it, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. Their eyes meet and she was immediately struck by their colour, a warm hazel, lighter than Harry's, but still so very familiar. She smiled and was pleased to see him return her smile with one of his own. She moved over to his table and he got up, extending his hand and murmuring in a voice that was also achingly familiar, "Hello. You must be Ruth. Graham Townsend, pleased to meet you."

She shook his hand and replied, "As am I, Graham. It's a real pleasure."

He helped her remove her coat, placing it on the back of her chair and pulling it out for her before pushing her in as she took a seat. She thanked him before he asked, "What can I get you?"

She thought about saying that he didn't need to pay for her drink, but decided against it, not wishing to risk offending him. "Actually some hot water would be just perfect. I have my own tea bag, you see, but if they make a fuss, just ask for tea with the tea bag on the side, not in the water."

He nodded and walked up the counter to place her order. She watched him, surprised that he was so slim. It seemed that neither of Harry's children had inherited his strong, broad build. His hair was a mass of light brown, short curls, darker and thicker than his father's, and he was about the same height as Harry. He didn't look much like his dad, far less so than Catherine. It was just his eyes and forehead that bore such a strong resemblance to his father's, but as she thought that Harry's eyes were by far his best feature, she reckoned that Graham was lucky.

It didn't take Graham long to get a cup of hot water for her and soon he was sitting down across from her, sipping his coffee as he studied her openly.

"Not what you expected, am I?" she asked with a smile.

He shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I thought you'd be more... glamorous. Cat did mention that you weren't his usual type." He winced and added quickly, "Sorry. That was thoughtless of me."

"It's okay, Graham," she reassured him. "I think I'd be worried if you classed me as Harry's usual type. He would have been bored of me already if I was."

He laughed and murmured, "I like you, Ruth. I didn't think I would, but Cat convinced me to give you a chance, and she was right. Perhaps my father has finally had some sense knocked into him somehow. Maybe it's all those blows to the head he must have received over the years."

She smiled and answered, "Could be."

"Is... my sister in that wrap?" he asked after a moment, indicating the Moby wrap she was wearing.

Ruth nodded. "Would you like to meet her?" she asked tentatively.

"Sure," he replied, his voice taking on an indifferent tone.

Ruth pulled back the top of the wrap to reveal Fiona's sleeping face as she murmured, "She's sleeping at the moment."

Graham leant closer, unable to stop himself in spite of his intention to maintain some emotional distance from his new, baby sister. "She's beautiful," he whispered as he looked at her, a soft smile curling the corners of his mouth up.

"Thank you," Ruth replied, glancing from her step-son to her daughter and back. Then she added, "Actually, she's part of the reason I wanted to talk to you today."

Graham leant back in his seat and took another sip of his coffee before saying, "I thought you wanted to talk to me about something to do with my father."

"It's about him too," she nodded. "You see, I'm sure Catherine's told you that he retired, but unfortunately, he's had to go back to work for a few weeks to fill in for someone." She paused, unsure of quite how to phrase this. "You know that he and I worked together, yes?" Graham nodded. "I was his senior analyst, and well, things are... challenging at work right now. I'm convinced that he needs my help, and even though he would never ask me to go back-"

"Wait, a second," Graham interrupted. "He doesn't know about this?"

"No," she shook her head. "I wanted to arrange everything before I tell him tonight. I need someone reliable to watch Fiona while I'm at work and I thought of you." Graham just stared at her, a mixture of surprise, incredulity, and pleasure appearing on his face. "You see, I know that you've got two jobs and work lousy hours for lousy pay. I'd be prepared to pay you a decent wage, though I can't promise the hours will be much better, but you could bring Jamie with you to our house and spend your day with him and Fiona. She's an easy baby, eats well even from a bottle and sleeps well too. I know that you're starting your new job in the new year, so I thought you might be prepared to leave your current employment a little earlier than you planned. What do you think?"

Graham frowned as he considered her proposal, weighing up the advantage of being with Jamie all day, versus the disadvantage of working for his father and looking after his new sister, something that was going to be exceedingly difficult for him emotionally. "Why me?" he asked eventually.

"I told you why," Ruth replied. "You're reliable and I know you've been a single father for a year already, so you know what to do to take care of her. I would prefer if it was you rather than a stranger that I find through an agency. You're family and family's important. I trust you, Graham."

"But you hardly know me?" he murmured.

"I know you better than you think," she answered. "I know your sister thinks the world of you and is very proud of how you've turned your life around. Richard also thinks highly of you, as does your father. By all accounts, you're a great father to Jamie and have worked hard to make a better life for the two of you. That tells me that, if you set your mind on something, you accomplish it, so if you decide to take care of Fiona, I trust that you will do your best and will not let any harm come to her." She didn't mention all the background checks she'd completed on him, something she would have done for anyone she'd consider hiring as a babysitter. All the people she'd talked to had good things to say about him, saying he was hard working and dependable. She'd even managed to get hold on one of his teachers from school, who was very happy to hear that Graham had kicked his drinking and drug habit and was doing well, She told Ruth what a kind hearted, gentle boy he'd been, always helping out his school mates and sticking up for them against those who would try to bully them.

"What about Dad?" he said doubtfully. "Would he trust me?"

"I think he would," she nodded, noting that this was the first time during their conversation that Graham had called his father Dad. "He thinks very highly of you, Graham. He loves you, and as you pointed out at the beginning of our meeting, he's had some sense knocked into him over the years one way or another. He's a different man to the one you remember, a better man." Graham was silent for several moments, thinking. Eventually, Ruth added, "I don't want to pressure you, Graham. Just think about it and ring me tonight with your answer. I would really like to start work tomorrow, so I need an answer as soon as possible. If you want to give it a trial run for a few days that would be fine too. I'll just need time to find someone else if you change your mind."

"It's all right," Graham replied, coming to a sudden decision. "I'll do it... as long as Dad doesn't object."

"Great," Ruth smiled. "I'm sure he won't, but if he does I'll ring you tonight. Otherwise, will you come round in the morning? Is half past seven too early?"

"No," Graham laughed, "Jamie and I would consider half seven a lie in. We're usually out of the house by six at the latest."

"If you're awake anyway," she replied, "come round earlier. Then we'll have time for Fiona to get used to you and for Jamie to feel at home."

He nodded. "We'll be there at seven then." Then he got up, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to get back to work. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ruth, and I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."

Ruth got up also and replied, "Me too, Graham, and thank you for agreeing to this. I'm truly very grateful."

Graham nodded and left the café, waving to her through the window as he passed. He really was as sweet as his dad, she thought with a smile and wondered briefly what kind of a person Harry would have been had he chosen a different career path. A protector certainly, she concluded with a smile; she had no doubt about that. And perhaps a little more open and trusting, she thought, but not all that different to who he was now. He would still have hidden away his emotions and shared little of his thoughts, but he would have had the same loyal heart and the same devotion to those he loved and cared about, and he'd have laughed more and been able to sleep better at night. Again she marvelled at how much of himself he'd given to the Service, so much more than she ever could. She felt a deep love and admiration for him at that moment, and at the same time, her heart ached for him, for all he'd lost in the process of protecting everyone else. She shook herself mentally and turned her thoughts from Harry to his son.

She wondered if she'd done the right thing in asking Graham to look after Fiona. It felt right somehow, seemed like the logical choice given his employment problems and the timing seemed to fit perfectly with everyone's needs. She needed someone right away and didn't really have time to be looking for a nanny right now, especially one that would be willing to sign the official secrets act; a necessary step for anyone taking care of Fiona right now, especially after Sasha's visit yesterday. She worried a little about bringing Graham and Jamie into her and Harry's dangerous lives, but she anticipated another visit from Sasha Gavrik to be highly unlikely. And anyway, she was determined that they would be done with the Gavriks well before Christmas. She would make sure of it, and then they would be free to leave the Service together. They'd move out of London, she'd decided. Somewhere along the coast and have a long and happy life. "Believe it, visualise it, and work hard for it," her father's words drifted through her head before she turned her thoughts back to Graham.

The fact that Graham jumped at the chance to be with his son all day, indicated that she'd been right about him; he really was very soft hearted and loved his boy very deeply. Even the awkward circumstances of working for his estranged father and looking after his half-sister had not prevented him from accepting. Fiona would be safe with him, she was sure. He'd wanted to keep an emotional distance from her, she could tell, and yet the way he'd looked at her just now had been tender as if he couldn't help himself. It was a shame really that he had a criminal record, she thought; he would have made a great nursery school teacher. Like father, like son, she thought as she considered the difficult lives they had both created for themselves for entirely different reasons and in entirely different ways. She sighed and turned her mind to the problem of how to convince Harry that her plan to return to work was a good one.


	33. Chapter 33

_Same day, 2nd December, 9 pm_

"I've been thinking, Harry," Ruth murmured as they sat across from each other eating their dinner. "I want to come back to work, end my maternity leave."

Harry looked up at her in surprise. "What?" he asked. "Why?"

"This thing with the Gavriks," she replied carefully. "It's very complex and delicate, and I think I'd be useful to the team right now."

He studied her quietly, realizing immediately that what she really meant was that she was worried about him and wanted to help _him_ work through the Gavrik problem. He was touched by the sentiment and realized once more how very much he really didn't deserve her. "But what about Fiona?" he asked.

"I've already arranged for someone to look after her," she answered.

He nodded and remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. He really would benefit from Ruth's help on this. It had already occurred to him how useful she would be in dealing with the Gavriks, and he'd found himself wishing that he could ask her to come back. He desperately needed someone he could trust and she was the only person he _would_ trust, the only person he was sure was on his side and would never betray him. "I can't ask you to do that," he murmured eventually.

"You didn't," she smiled. "I offered."

He nodded and gave in, realizing that she'd already made up her mind and nothing he could say would change it. She was, after all, his stubborn old mule, he thought fondly, and he did really need her help. "All right," he agreed. "I'll have you start on Monday."

"No, Harry. I'm starting tomorrow."

"Ruth, that's too soon. What about Fiona?"

"I've already got a lot of milk in the freezer for her, and I'll be taking my pump to work with me," she reassured him. "She'll be fine. She'll have her brother to take care of her and her nephew to play with. She'll love it, and besides, you need me at work before the talks begin on Monday."

"You're right," he nodded and then looked up in surprise as the rest of her words registered. "Wait a minute, her brother and nephew?!" he exclaimed.

"Graham agreed to watch her for us during the day. He'll be bringing Jamie with him and will spend the day and night, if necessary, here with the two of them."

"Graham?" Harry asked incredulously. "He agreed to come to our house and babysit for us?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Ruth smiled. "As long as you don't object."

"Object? Why would I object?" he asked in bewilderment. "You obviously believe he can handle Fiona and he's certainly a better father than I ever was, and besides, it would be an opportunity for me to see him and speak to him daily."

"That's what I thought you'd say," she smiled. "They're coming tomorrow morning at seven. Oh, and I got a present for Jamie for you to give him. It's a shape sorting cube."

"Thank you, Ruth. Is there anything you don't think of?" he replied in amazement and gave her a grateful smile.

"Well, I couldn't not buy something for your first grandchild now, could I?"

"You'd be surprised how many people wouldn't think of it," he replied sadly, "including myself."

"You would have thought of it if you'd known he was coming and your head wasn't full of secret talks with Russians," she reassured him, deliberately not mentioning the Gavriks.

"Speaking of secret talks with Russians," Harry said after a short pause, "the Home Secretary informed me that I have to attend a do for the Russian delegation tomorrow night and I have a plus one. Would you like to accompany me?"

"You know I'd love to, Harry," she smiled.

* * *

_Next morning, 3nd December, 7 am_

"Good morning, Graham," Ruth smiled as she opened the door.

"Good morning, Ruth," he replied and stepped into the warm house as she moved aside to let him enter. He was holding Jamie in his arms and the little boy clung to him, resting his head on his shoulder and burying his face in his neck.

"Come through to the sitting room," Ruth smiled and took the bag with Jamie's things that he was holding from him before leading the way into the room. "I'll just go and get Fiona," she murmured quietly, "and give you a change to settle in. There are some toys in the toy box."

"Thank you, Ruth," Graham replied and watched her put the bag down in the corner and leave the room before turning to his son and coaxing him to look around. He was a shy, little boy, quiet and thoughtful, and it took him a few minutes to get accustomed to his new surroundings with the encouragement of his father, and to feel comfortable enough to take his coat, hat and shoes off and begin to play with the toys.

Harry approached the doorway to the room quietly and peered in, keen to get a glimpse of his son and grandson before they became aware of his presence. They were sitting on the floor, playing with the toys Ruth had picked up yesterday in preparation for their visit. Graham looked good, he saw with relief. He'd filled out and he looked stronger and more confident than the last time he'd seen him. With a pang, he realized that it had been almost six years ago when he'd been called to the police station to bale him out of jail as both Catherine and Jane had been out of town at the time. He'd wanted to reach out to his son so much, but he hadn't known how to even try. Everything he'd said had been taken in the wrong way, and they'd parted angry and upset. He hoped that this time things would be different. They had to be, he thought fiercely, because there was much more to loose now than just his son. He had a grandson too, he reasoned as he turned his eyes toward him and there was no way he was going to miss out on that.

Jamie was adorable with his chubby cheeks, sparkling brown eyes, and blond curls. He toddled from the box over to Graham, who was sitting on the floor by the sofa, bringing toy after toy and handing each one to his father with a delighted smile. Graham was naming each toy and Jamie was trying to repeat the sounds back to his father, before moving back over to the box for the next toy. Harry watched as Jamie made the trip over to Graham many times until eventually the box was empty.

"Aw gone," Jamie protested as he turned to look at his father.

"Are they all gone?" Graham smiled. "Let's put them back then."

Jamie grinned and toddled over to him, taking the train that Graham handed to him in his little hands and saying, "Ein."

"Yes, train," Graham smiled and watched as Jamie carried it over to the box and placed it carefully inside.

Then he turned back for the next item, saying, "Ba."

"Yes, ball," Graham replied.

Jamie turned to carry it to the box, but he dropped it on his foot, and it rolled away toward the open doorway. Jamie began to move toward it, but after taking a few steps, he spied Harry standing beyond the doorway and he paused, frowning uncertainly. Slowly Harry crouched down to Jamie's eye level and smiled. "Hello, Jamie," he murmured.

"Dada," Jamie called uncertainly, glancing round at his father, but he didn't move away.

"I'm right here, Jamie," Graham replied as he got up and moved to his son before crouching down beside him. "It's okay. This is your Grandpa."

"Ganpa?" Jamie asked.

"Yes, Grandpa," Graham smiled. "Daddy's daddy."

Harry produced the present Ruth had got for Jamie from behind his back and held it out to him. "This is for you, Jamie," he said.

Jamie hesitated and looked at his father.

"It's okay. It's for you, Jamie," Graham reassured him. "Go get it."

Jamie took a few steps forward until he reached Harry. Then he took the present from his hand and turned to go back to his father, carrying it carefully and saying, "Hewy, Dada."

"Is it heavy, Jamie?" Graham smiled. "What's in it? Shall we open it?" Jamie nodded and began to sit down. "Come over here first," Graham said and returned to the sofa, sitting down on it and helping Jamie to sit next to him with the gift between his legs. Jamie began ripping the paper, concentrating hard on opening the gift as Graham and Harry watched him.

"Have a seat, Dad," Graham murmured, looking up at him briefly before turning back to watch his son.

Harry nodded and straightened his legs with some difficulty as they'd already started going to sleep. He really needed to get in better shape, he decided as he made his way over to the sofa and sat down next to Jamie, who didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he turned to his grandfather once the wrapping paper had been removed and said, "Open, Ganpa."

Harry smiled and replied, "Yes, Jamie. Let's open it," before reaching over and opening the lid of the box and pulling the shape sorting cube out.

"Look, Dada," Jamie said and lifted the cube to show his father.

"It's a shape sorting cube," Graham smiled. "That looks like fun. Let's get the pieces out." Then he helped Jamie remove the pieces and close the cube before picking up the first piece. "Watch," he said and showed Jamie how to push it through the correctly shaped hole. "You try," he added and handed him a piece.

Jamie frowned in concentration as he tried to put the piece in through the same hole that Graham had used, but of course, it didn't fit. He studied the piece, moving it around in his chubby little hands and tried it again, looking up at his father uncertainly when it didn't work.

"Try another hole," Graham advised.

So Jamie did, trying three holes before it slid easily in. "Es!" he exclaimed triumphantly, making Harry chuckle. Soon Jamie was completely engrossed in his new toy and required no further input from the adults at all.

"Thanks, Dad," Graham murmured as he looked up at his father. "He loves it."

"It's my pleasure," Harry replied and then added, "though I can't take credit for the idea. It was Ruth's doing."

Graham nodded. "That figures. You never did do very well with gifts."

"No," Harry sighed. "Except for that elephant... What was his name? Throw, launch?"

"Fling," Graham replied quietly.

"That's it, Fling. He was my one success. I remember I found it at the airport in Frankfurt, I think. I'd been looking for something to bring home for you and your sister, and when I saw the elephant, I remembered how much you'd liked the elephants at the zoo, so I got it for you. I never dreamt it would be such a success."

Graham nodded and then they both fell silent as they watched Jamie empty the box and begin putting the pieces in again.

"Thank you for coming, Graham," Harry murmured after a bit, "and for taking care of Fiona for us. It means a lot." Graham nodded and Harry continued, finding it easier somehow to talk to his son as they both watched Jamie play. "I've made many mistakes in my life, Graham, but there are none that I regret more than my failings as a father. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you and your sister... truly, very sorry."

Graham was silent for some time as he worked through the emotions that his father's words evoked in him. When he was ready, he replied in a calm, steady voice, "I appreciate you saying that, Dad, but I'm not quite ready to put everything behind us just yet. I'm here because of Jamie, and for his sake, I'm willing to try to work things out between us, but please, don't push me too far, too soon."

Harry nodded, surprised by both the calmness of his son's voice and the forthrightness of his words. "Of course," he murmured. "I just wanted you to know that you and Jamie will always be loved and welcome in my home." He turned to his grandson and kissed the top of his head before getting up from the sofa and making his way to the door. When he reached it, he almost bumped into Ruth as she suddenly rounded the door frame with Fiona in her arms. His hands shot out to steady her as she momentarily lost her balance, coming to rest on her upper arms.

"Oops!" she exclaimed. "Sorry."

Harry smiled and ran his hands down her arms murmuring quietly so that only she could hear, "You never have to apologise for bumping into me, Ruth, whether accidentally or on purpose."

Graham watched his father as he caressed Ruth's arms and murmured something to her quietly, making her laugh. In that moment, he looked happy and relaxed, almost like a different person to the man he'd known all his life. He felt a stab of pain and jealousy at the realization that he and Catherine had never known this side of him, had never made him this happy. But as he continued to watch, Harry turned to Fiona and kissed her hair tenderly, his expression changing to one of pure adoration. He recognised that look in his father's eyes; he'd seen it directed at himself and his sister when they had been small, and if he was honest, even later when they'd grown up a little and started to push him away. It was the same look he'd seen in his eyes only moments ago as he looked at Jamie, and he realized that perhaps he'd been wrong in thinking that his father didn't care, that he didn't love him, that he was unlovable and somehow to blame for his father's unhappiness. After all, Jamie made him very happy, but he wouldn't call himself a satisfied, contented man. He was still missing the satisfaction that came from having an enjoyable and worthwhile job, and the happiness and fulfilment that came from being in a loving relationship with another adult, something that Jamie could never give him. He knew that his parents had never found that with each other, but this was the first time he'd seen what a difference it could make, and a small part of him envied Fiona her luck in having parents who were so much in love with each other.

"Graham?" Ruth's voice interrupted his reverie.

"Mmm? Sorry," he murmured and blinked. "I was miles away."

Ruth smiled and sat down next to Jamie, who looked up at her and said, "Ganpa?"

"Grandpa has to go to work, Jamie," she smiled at him, "but he'll be back later. I'm Ruth."

"Ooff?" Jamie asked.

"Yes, Ruth," she smiled and lowered Fiona into her lap. "This is Fiona."

"Ona?" Jamie asked again.

"Yes, Fiona."

Fiona gurgled and smiled as she looked at Jamie before squealing in delight and making Jamie laugh.

"Well, they're going to get on well, aren't they?" Ruth smiled. "He's adorable, Graham. You must be so proud of him."

Graham nodded, and indicating Fiona, he asked, "May I?"

"Of course," Ruth replied and handed Fiona over to him.

"Hello, Fiona," Graham smiled. "I'm Graham... your big brother." Fiona studied him intently for several moments, frowning in concentration. "There's no need to look so suspicious," Graham continued speaking, "We're going to have a good time together while Mum and Dad go to work."

"I think it's your voice," Ruth said. "It's remarkably like your father's and I think it's got her a little confused."

Graham glanced up at her in surprise and then looked back at Fiona. "Do I sound like Dad?" he asked her. "Is that what's confusing you? I don't speak like him though. He speaks like this." Then he proceeded to imitate Harry's turn of phrase and tone of voice to perfection, causing Ruth to burst out laughing. Fiona looked even more confused, making Ruth laugh even harder while Jamie giggled and clapped his hands in delight.

Curious to see what had caused all the commotion, Harry came to the door of the room and peered in, causing Graham to immediately stop as he didn't feel comfortable enough around him yet to continue in his presence. Realizing that Harry was in the doorway from the look on Graham's face, Ruth wiped the tears from her cheeks with her hands before turning toward him and tactfully steering the subject away from Graham's cheeky and yet brilliant performance by asking, "Is it time to go?"

"Yes," he nodded, looking rather serious, "though you should probably show Graham where everything is before we go." He was a little annoyed with Graham's mimicry, which he'd caught the tail end of, but he knew better than to say anything. His pride was a little bruised, but it wasn't the first nor, he suspected, the last time it would happen in his lifetime.

"Good idea," she smiled and got up, placing a brief kiss on his cheek as she stopped next to him.

"I'll take Fiona while you take Graham upstairs," Harry murmured, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "It'll be quicker that way."

"Okay," Graham agreed and handed her over, not quiet daring to meet his father's eye. Then he turned to Jamie and said, "Jamie, Daddy's going to go upstairs for a moment with Ruth. Will you stay with Grandpa and Fiona?"

"Es," Jamie replied. "Ona."

"Okay," Graham smiled and kissed his hair. "See you in a bit. Show Fiona your new shape sorting cube."

So Ruth and Graham disappeared upstairs while Harry remained downstairs entertaining the two children. He wondered briefly if anyone on the Grid would believe that he was not only willing but also capable of taking care of a toddler and a baby like this. Somehow, he doubted it. He'd carefully built up his reputation as a ruthless, cold hearted bastard over the years, and he was not about to ruin it now. Anyway he thought gloomily, he probably wouldn't be able to take care of Fiona and Jamie on his own. A few minutes was one thing, but day after day of taking care of them he was sure he would fail at spectacularly. "I'm very proud of your Daddy, Jamie," he murmured to his grandson. "He's turned out to be quite an amazing man. Don't you ever forget that."

Ruth showed Graham where everything was kept, including the extra things she'd bought for Jamie yesterday, such as a potty, a travel cot and some cups, bowls and spoons. Graham was amazed at her organization and that she'd thought of everything, and was beginning to see exactly why his father was so in love with this woman. It was more of a mystery what she saw in him, however, he knew that, if she'd looked at him as she looked at his father, he was sure that he would have been half in love with her already.

When they returned downstairs they found Harry reading a book to Jamie and Fiona, each one of them nestled into one of his sides, listening with rapt attention. Graham was surprised at how at home he looked like this and how happy. Perhaps things would work out better than they had in the past, he thought as he stepped forward to take over the care of his son and sister. Ruth and Harry kissed each of the children in turn, and after bidding them all goodbye, they left the house for work.


	34. Chapter 34

_Same day, 3rd December, 8 am_

They walked into the building together, and Ruth was surprised that it felt so natural; part of her had expected to feel self-conscious and awkward like she used to. She glanced at Harry who gave her a big grin as he murmured, "It's wonderful to have you back, Ruth."

"You can _have_ me whenever you wish, Harry," she teased in a whisper, making him laugh.

The security guards stared at them, and Ruth felt a little self-conscious, thinking that perhaps they'd overheard her remark, but then she realized that they were probably staring at them because they'd never heard Harry laugh before or seen him look happy.

"Good morning, Charlie," she smiled, spying one of the security guards she new.

"Miss Evershed," he smiled. "How lovely to see you. How's the little one?"

"Wonderful, thank you," Ruth replied. "Wakes me up all hours of the night, but she's worth every bit of it."

"Just you wait till you have to wait up all hours of the night for her to get home," Charlie chuckled.

"Oh, dear," Ruth grimaced. "Don't tell me things like that. How are your two lads?"

"Very well, Miss," he smiled. "Thanks for asking."

Ruth noticed Harry waiting for her by the lift so she nodded toward him and murmured, "I'd better catch up with the boss. Don't want to keep him waiting on my first day back, do I?"

"No, Miss," Charlie chuckled and watched her go with a smile.

"Took you long enough," Harry grumbled as she approached and stood next to him.

Ruth just smiled and whispered back, "Now _that's_ the Harry Pearce I remember."

By the time they reached the pods, Harry's persona had changed completely to boss spook, Head of Section D, and Ruth had reverted to her role of dependable Ruth ready to analyse the hell out of anything. They stepped out of the pods and were immediately greeted by Tariq, who looked up from his computer and literally ran over to them, beaming at Ruth.

"Ruth!" Tariq exclaimed happily and gave her a hug. "I've missed you."

"Hello, Tariq," she smiled. "I've missed you too. How've you been?"

"Good. You know, working," he replied.

"Γειά σου, Ruth," Dimitri grinned as he too stepped forward to greet her.

"Γειά σου, Δημητράκι," she smiled and gave him a hug. "I do believe you've grown," she teased.

He laughed and replied, "Or perhaps you forgot to slip on your heels this morning."

"Not likely," she whispered conspiratorially. "Harry becomes insufferable when he's more than a few inches taller than me."

Dimitri and Tariq laughed, but sobered immediately and turned to go back to their stations when they saw the look Harry gave them.

Harry frowned at her and murmured, "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. I think I preferred it when you insisted on keeping our relationship a secret."

She studied him for a moment and then said, "Then I shall have to work hard to change your mind."

He was about to reply when his Section Chief walked up to them saying, "You must be Ruth. I'm Erin Watts."

"Pleased to meet you, Erin," she smiled and shook her hand. Ruth liked her immediately. She seemed very sure of herself and was polite and professional.

Harry murmured something about getting to work and turned to his office, leaving the two women together. "Perhaps you could show me my work station," Ruth suggested as she looked around the Grid.

"Of course," Erin smiled and led the way. "Are you still nursing your daughter?" she asked as they walked toward it.

"Yes," Ruth answered, surprised by the question.

"So you intend to pump while you're at work?"

"Um... yes," she answered cautiously.

"I'll get Harry's permission to set up a computer in one of the interview rooms so that you can use it when you need to pump. I'll also send out someone to buy a small fridge for you to store your milk until you can take it home in the evening. Hopefully by tomorrow, I might even be able to find a comfortable chair for you to sit in," Erin said briskly.

"Thank you, Erin," Ruth smiled as they stopped by her new desk. "That's very thoughtful of you."

"I had to fight hard to get a space where I could pump in comfort when Rosie was a baby," she replied. "I know how uncomfortable it is to try to do it in the bathroom. You're part of this team and it's my job to make sure you have everything you need to function to the best of your abilities."

"Thanks," Ruth said again and watched as Erin turned around and strode toward Harry's office. Erin had just gone up a lot in her estimation.

Turning her eyes back to her works station, she was pleased to note that though some desks had been moved a little, her new station was still located in almost the same spot with a good view through the glass window of Harry's office. She took a seat, adjusting her chair and turning on her computer, before logging in and raising her eyes to look at Harry through the glass wall of his office. He was watching her and gave her a big grin, which she returned before getting back to work.

Harry's mixed feelings of a moment ago disappeared the instant she looked up at him through the glass wall of his office, and he couldn't help grinning like a fool. Ruth was back on the Grid and he could already feel the difference. Everything seemed easier all of a sudden; everything was as it should be.

* * *

_Same day, 3rd December, 11 pm_

Harry opened the door and ushered Ruth into the house before he closed and locked it behind them. After removing their coats and shoes, they made their way into the sitting room where they found Graham sitting in an arm chair reading.

"Hello," he greeted them. "Did you have a good time?"

They'd been home earlier in the evening to change for the reception before heading out again. Ruth had been a little disappointed when their evening out had turned into an op, but she had got over it quickly, enjoying the adrenaline rush along with the rest of them, though not the interaction with the Gavriks.

"It was fine, thank you," Ruth smiled. "Thanks for staying the extra time."

Graham nodded and smiled wryly as he got up and said, "It's fine. I'll be charging you overtime for every hour past six, you know."

Ruth laughed and replied, "As long as it's going toward taking care of you and Jamie, I'll consider it money well spent."

Graham beamed at her and Harry found himself feeling irrationally jealous of her for a moment before he realized that, if Graham liked Ruth, then he'd be happy to spend time here, and with time, might even enjoy his company also.

"Are they both sleeping?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Graham replied.

Harry nodded and said, "Would you like to stay the night? You could have the guest room and it'll save you getting Jamie up and driving across town."

Graham hesitated for a moment but then replied, "Thank you, but I think I'd better head home tonight. I didn't bring anything with me, and I'm used to moving Jamie into the car while he sleeps. He doesn't wake up."

"As you wish," Harry nodded. "You're always welcome to use the guest room if you need it. You could leave a change of clothes here if you like, so that next time it's an option."

"Thanks, Dad," he replied with a smile. "I'd better get Jamie and head home," he added and turned toward the stairs.

Ruth followed him up to check on Fiona, leaving Harry to pour himself a drink. He really needed it and felt that he'd earned it after tonight. Seeing the Gavriks today had brought back so many memories and feelings of guilt, hurt, anger and mistrust, that his mind was reeling. If he hadn't had Ruth by his side to act as his anchor, he suspected he'd be lost at sea already. When this was over, he decided, he was going to take her and Fiona away on a tour of Europe, their Grand Tour. Fiona was young enough to go with them without complicating things too much. It would be their Christmas come honeymoon come retirement gift.

A noise behind him had him turning toward the door again. He spied Graham struggling along the hall with a sleeping Jamie and his bag. Putting his glass down on the table, Harry moved out into the hall and whispered, "Graham, let me give you a hand."

"It's fine, Dad," Graham murmured, but Harry refused to be deterred.

He stepped forward and slipped on his shoes, grabbing the bag from Graham's hand and putting it down on the floor before moving round Graham to grab his coat. "Here," he said gruffly and held open for him.

"Thanks," Graham murmured and slid one hand through the sleeve before transferring Jamie to his other shoulder so he could slip his other arm through.

Once Graham was wearing his coat, Harry took Jamie's hat and slipped it on his head gently. Then he murmured, "Hang on," and went back into the sitting room, coming back out holding a blanket which he draped over his grandson. "It'll be easier than his coat," he whispered.

Graham nodded and watched as his father pulled on his coat, slid his keys into his pocket, and grabbed Jamie's bag and coat before unlocking the door and stepping out into the night. He waited for Graham to leave the house before pulling the door closed behind them and following his son to his car. Between them they managed to get Jamie safely buckled in his car seat without waking him. Graham covered his son with the blanket he kept in the car and handed Harry back his blanket saying, "Thanks, Dad. That was much easier than doing it on my own."

"You're welcome, Son," Harry smiled. "Drive safely. See you in the morning."

"Good night," Graham replied, and after stowing Jamie's bag and coat in the boot, he got in the driver's seat and started the engine before driving off.


	35. Chapter 35

_Three days later, 6th December, 3 pm_

"Did you see her?" Ruth asked as she followed him into his office.

"Yes," he sighed as he leant over his desk with his back toward her.

"What happened?" she enquired.

"I want you to look into Jim Coaver for me," he said, turning to face her and deliberately ignoring her question. It had been harder than he'd expected to see Elena again, to speak to her, hear her talk about Sasha, his son, to discover that the impostor was probably someone he'd considered a friend, one of the few he'd had left, and then to help Sasha deal with Anatoli's body. Death and betrayal at every turn. He was sick of it. All he wanted was to be back home with Ruth and Fiona, living his life in peace, away from all this. He couldn't believe that there was a time in his life when he'd enjoyed this, craved it even. How different life would have been if he'd chosen another career, he mused... but then he wouldn't have met Ruth, he reminded himself as he saw her watching him with eyes full of concern and love.

"You want me to investigate a CIA deputy director?" she asked with a puzzled frown, braking into his thoughts.

"I believe he's the one posing as me," he replied. "You'll have to do it through back channels, tiptoe. I'll give you all the necessary clearances."

She frowned at him and murmured, "Harry-"

But he interrupted, taking a step toward her and reaching for her hand. "Please, Ruth. You're the only one I can turn to. Look into Jim Coaver for me. Reserve your judgement for later."

"I'm worried about you," she whispered as she raised her free hand to cup his cheek. "Sasha's your son, Harry... You're compromised. Can't you see that?"

"A short relationship led to a child," he stated calmly. "Circumstances have prevented me from being involved in his life; it happens every day. If I'm emotionally compromised, I have been for thirty years. There's nothing to be done, Ruth. There never has been; I've tried."

"I know," she murmured. "Just... promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't do anything stupid."

He nodded and replied, "I promise."

"Good," she smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Because you're too precious to us, me and Fiona, and I don't want to visit you in prison or visit your grave." She paused and looked at him lovingly before taking a step back and adding, "I'll go look into Coaver right away." Then she turned and left the room, leaving him to contemplate the fact that he had never been called precious by any other woman before, except perhaps his mother.

* * *

_Next day, 7th December, 7 am_

She walked into the technical suite and smiled at the sight that greeted her. Tariq was sleeping with his head on his arms in front of his terminal, his mouth gaping open. Walking up to him, she shook his shoulder gently and murmured his name.

He awoke with a start, sitting up suddenly and rubbing his eyes, before turning to look at her.

"Sorry," he croaked. "I must have dozed off. What time is it?"

"It's seven in the morning," she smiled. "Have you been here all night?"

"Yeah," he replied as he turned to log back into his system.

"I thought I told you to go home," she murmured reproachfully.

"I know," he replied distractedly, "but I suddenly had an idea on how to speed up the search and decided to stay another half-hour to see if it would help. I must have fallen asleep while I..." He tailed off as his screen came to life and he looked at the CCTV image in front of him. "Why hello, beautiful. Where did you come from?" he said in an excited voice.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't address my wife in that manner, Mr. Masood," Harry growled as he walked up behind the techie.

"What?" Tariq asked as he spun his chair around to face him, his face the picture of confusion.

Ruth chuckled and Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Never mind. What have you got for me?"

"It looks like this woman is responsible for our laptop theft," Tariq replied, turning back to his monitor and tapping away at his keyboard as he worked to track her movements through CCTV.

"Morning, all," Calum greeted them cheerfully as he walked up to the group and peered at Tariq's screen. "Found something?" he asked and took a seat, logging on immediately and proceeding to assist his colleague. "I'll run her through facial recog."

"Let me know what you find," Harry said and walked off toward his office, motioning for Ruth to follow him.

Once inside his office, he asked her to close the door before turning to her and murmuring, "Elena's communiques from whoever's posing as me, I need to collect them from her tomorrow, but I can't risk being seen with her again."

"No," Ruth sighed, "That would not be wise. Don't worry. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Ruth," he replied, his gaze softening. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd survive, I'm sure," she said, a little bitterness creeping into her voice. This business with Harry's ex-lover and son was stating to get to her, making her angry at herself, Harry and especially that woman.

He took a step forward and took her hands in his before he replied earnestly, "That's not true, Ruth. I wouldn't survive loosing you again. Last time was... unbearable. I went through the motions, throwing myself into work to take my mind off you, and I survived because I had a purpose, because it was all I knew. But now... I've had a taste of life with you, with Fiona, together, and I will never be able to go back to living without that... I would be a shell of a man if I lost you now."

* * *

**I just couldn't kill Tariq... S.C.**


	36. Chapter 36

_Next day, 8th December, 12 pm_

She paused in the doorway to steady her nerves and observe the older woman for a moment. She looked remarkably beautiful and elegant despite her age, sitting on the bench with great poise, giving off an aura of being in control. Ruth wondered briefly if she'd always been like that, or if being married to a spy and powerful man had led her to develop this trait. She had been a ballet dancer in her youth, she remembered from her file, and with her beautiful face and lean, well toned body, it was no wonder that Harry's younger, testosterone and adrenaline fuelled self had fallen for her. No, Ruth, she scolded herself, don't think about that. Focus.

Taking a deep breath, she walked forward and took a seat on the same bench as Elena Gavrik and a couple of feet away from her. She sensed the Russian's eyes on her for a moment as she kept her gaze on the painting, _The Execution of Lady Jane Grey, _in front of her. She'd never liked this painting much, and she wondered briefly whether it was Harry or Elena who'd decided on the precise location for this meet, and if there was some subtle meaning behind their choice. Who was Lady Jane Grey? She or Elena, she wondered briefly before shaking herself free of the thought and focusing her mind on her task.

"Harry thought is was better not to risk another meet with you so soon," she said.

"And you are the one he sends?" Elena replied, her voice coloured slightly by emotion.

It was irritation with a hint of jealousy, Ruth realized and it pleased her no end, boosting her confidence considerably. "Do you have the communiques?" she asked simply.

Elena reach over and pulled aside the guide book that was lying on the bench between them, revealing a small, white, gift bag that had been hidden underneath it. Ruth slid her hand over to it and picked it up, stowing it away in her coat pocket before turning to look at the painting once more. She'd read Elena's file from back to front several times over the past few days, looking for clues as to who could be posing as Harry, but there was something about the Russian that didn't quite fit with the profile her file depicted. She came across as almost too innocent, too naïve for someone who was married to a former KGB officer and who was spying for MI-5. Her gut was telling her that Elena Gavrik was not to be trusted and there was more to her than she let on, especially to Harry. She certainly was not the innocent, damsel in distress that she wished him to think, and the fact that she presented herself as such to him, made Ruth very suspicious of her motives. She wanted to use him for something, but what?

Realizing that this was probably going to be her only opportunity to talk to Elena alone, Ruth felt the need to engage her in conversation and see if she could learn something more about her, see if she could find something to confirm her suspicions, or disprove them.

"My name's Ruth," she said eventually, since the last time they'd met at the reception she'd been using an alias at Harry's insistence. It was a gesture of good faith as she was sure that the Russian had already looked her up and probably knew almost everything about her.

"I saw how you were together at the reception, Ruth," Elena replied. "Harry loves you, doesn't he?"

The question surprised her and she found herself becoming even more suspicious of the Russian. She was up to something, probing to find her weakness, to see how sure she was of her husband's affection for her. Well, she would play along and see where this led. It would probably work to her advantage to make the Russian think that she was in control anyway. "I have no idea how to answer that question... or why I ever would," she said hesitantly.

"But he trusts you though," Elena added quietly, seemingly pleased by her response and the uncertainty it betrayed.

"Not completely," she said this time.

"You can't expect complete trust from a man like Harry," Elena replied. "He can't even give that to himself."

She wondered what Elena meant by the statement. Harry did trust her and rely on her judgement and yet Elena was trying to tell her otherwise. If she had not been so sure of Harry's love and trust, she would have been very rattled by her words. As things stood, it just served to confirm her dislike and distrust of Elena. She was playing on Harry's greatest weakness, his loyalty to those he cared about or felt responsible for, and just like with John Bateman it was going to be very difficult to shake that loyalty before someone got hurt. She needed unequivocal proof and help in obtaining it. She couldn't ask any of the team to do it; she needed outside help and immediately thought of Malcolm. She hadn't seen him in ages, but they'd stayed in touch through email and the phone, and she was sure that he would be willing to help, especially as it concerned Harry. He'd moved out of London more than a year ago now and rarely ventured back to the capital, but she felt that he might make an exception under these circumstances.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Sasha Gavrik approaching and after Elena reassured her that it was safe, that Sasha had brought her to the meet, Sasha addressed her, saying, "Where is Pearce?"

"It wasn't safe for him to come," Ruth answered as she studied him quietly, looking with interest for any resemblance to Harry. But apart from a general similarity in their colouring and height, she found none at all, and her suspicions were aroused once more.

"I want to know," Sasha continued. "When you find out who wrote the messages, Harry comes to me. He owes me that much." Then he turned to his mother and said, "We have to go."

She nodded, and as she passed by Ruth, she smiled and squeezed her hand, saying, "Thank you, Ruth," and taking her by surprise. Elena Gavrik was a very good actress, Ruth concluded as she watched them leave, and a dangerous woman, and Harry was in deep trouble because he couldn't see that.

* * *

_Same day, 8th December, 1:30 pm_

"I'm still not entirely sure why I'd be necessary, Home Secretary," Ruth murmured quietly before glancing up at him.

"I'm a hoarder of intellects," Towers smiled. "It's how I make myself look good. When the power map is being redrawn, I need to be ahead of the curve. But tell me about yourself, Ruth, if I may call you that."

"Well, there's not much to tell really," she replied. "I'm sure you already know all about me from Harry's report and my file. Until recently, my life outside my work had been... small. It's only in the last year really that I've managed to build something for myself outside of Themes House. My daughter has been a blessing and I am very much enjoying motherhood."

"Good," he smiled. "Parenthood is indeed very rewarding and I can't help but point out that, were you to work for me, your hours would be much better suited to your family life, and as my security advisor, you would be liaising with the Security Services daily so you wouldn't have to sever all ties to your current colleagues. I know that you are a very close knit team."

Ruth nodded and replied, "I'll think about it, Home Secretary, and of course, I do need to speak to Harry first."

"Of course," he smiled. "And if you _do_ work for me, you'll call me William."


	37. Chapter 37

**Hope the following in plausible. Thanks for your reviews and feedback. S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Same day, 8th December, 3 pm_

Ruth walked into his office and said, "17th of November, 1982."

He didn't even look up from what he was doing as he murmured, "The mists aren't parting, Ruth."

"The Kizlov ballet only performed in West Berlin once," she explained as she entered the room, "on that date."

He looked up, and after a momentary hesitation, he confirmed, "Yes. It was Elena's cover, where Ilia thought she was going for the eventing."

"There's no mention of it in the records," she added.

"It wasn't an official operation," he confessed quietly before raising his eyes to hers with a deeply apologetic look. He really hated having to discuss his liaisons with her like this. After his many sleepless nights spent thinking about Ruth with George, he could imagine how difficult this must be for her.

There was silence for a moment as Ruth fought to push aside thoughts of Harry with Elena. "One of the messages does mention that night, and as it wasn't a sanctioned op, I'm assuming not many people knew about it," she said eventually.

"Just me, Elena and Jim Coaver," Harry confirmed.

"Harry, if Jim Coaver wrote these messages, if he tricked Elena into thinking he was you, then we need to consider that he was involved in the attempted hit on Gavrik," she stated.

He nodded and rubbed his face with his hands as he added, "And with what Tariq and Calum found out about the CIA's deniable asset, it also means that he was behind the theft of our laptop."

Ruth frowned and took a seat across from him, murmuring softly, "Harry, from what I've found in my research into Coaver, you and he were friends, close friends."

He looked up at her and nodded. "We were," he sighed and thought back to his meeting with Coaver only a few days ago. "I met up with him when he returned to London some days ago and I thought..." He tailed off, shaking his head and saying, "Never mind."

"No, tell me," she encouraged. "What did he say?"

"When I was leaving the pub after he'd denied running Elena Gavrik," he murmured, "he looked at me seriously for a moment and said that he always considered me a friend, and I thought... that he looked sincere." He sighed again before pulling himself together and sitting up straight, quickly banishing the regret he felt at loosing another friend, and said in a steady voice, "I must have been mistaken."

Ruth looked thoughtful before she replied, "We need to be sure, Harry. It's possible that someone is setting Jim Coaver up."

"Who?" Harry asked.

She frowned slightly, debating with herself if she should share her suspicions yet, before deciding against it. "I don't know. It's possible, however, that Jim Coaver is only responsible for running Elena, and the woman with the laptop is working for someone else. We have no real proof that the two are connected, other than the fact that the CIA _might_ be involved in both."

Harry nodded. "Then we get proof."

* * *

_Next day, 9th December, 4 pm_

She waited on the walkway looking out over the Themes, lost in thought. She was about to take a big risk, but she was running out of time, running out of options. If she was wrong...

"So what is it with you guys and this hanging out by the river?" Jim Coaver's voice cut across her thoughts and forced her to turn around to face him. He looked at her seriously, appraising her for a moment. "Now, I know you've been looking into me, Ruth," he murmured reproachfully before pausing for effect and continuing, "way back too, and I want to know why."

"Shit!" Ruth murmured, she hadn't expected him to know that. She looked away for a moment before meeting his eye again and saying, "It was a favour to Harry."

"What the hell does he think I'm up to? Arming Cornish separatists?" Jim asked looking surprised and a little indignant.

She almost smiled at that, but she managed to keep a straight face. She could see why Jim and Harry had been good friends, and it made her sad to think that they were being pushed apart and it strengthened her resolve, so she answered quietly, "He's been betrayed too many times. He's seeing enemies everywhere." She paused for a moment and then added, "He begged me to look into you and all I found out is that you too were friends, you trusted each other. I felt sorry for him. You're the one person he could always rely on and now-"

"I'm just another monster under the bed, huh?" Jim murmured sadly.

Ruth nodded.

"Yup. I've seen that happen to a lot of good people," he said and then added, "though I wouldn't call the men in white coats just yet." She almost smiled again and watched as his gaze turned hard before he added, "Berlin wasn't all wine and roses. Did you see the file on Treptower Park?"

"There was no file on what happened at Treptower Park," she said immediately, knowing that he was trying to catch her out. Then she turned the tables on him. "But Harry told me," she lied.

"Yeah," Coaver sighed looking a little surprised by this revelation, but since she was married to Harry, it was not too far fetched to believe that he trusted her enough to share this information. "I would never have done it. I hope he knows that." he said earnestly. "I don't shoot my friends. Family... maybe, but not my friends. I don't know what he told you, but he was out of control. Attempting to extract a top level asset without a shred of authorisation? A KGB officer's wife for Christ's sakes! He was endangering multiple operations and all because he'd knocked up Elena, felt bad about it. I had to stop him."

"You were doing him a favour," she said quietly.

"Yeah, he didn't see it like that then," he murmured.

"You don't believe it, do you?" she asked bravely after pausing for a moment and taking a steadying breath.

"Don't believe what?" he replied cautiously.

"That he knocked up Elena," she clarified, looking steadily into his eyes.

He studied her for several seconds before asking, "Now, what makes you say that?"

"Because I don't believe it either," she admitted quietly.

"Go on," he encouraged.

"I can't," she said, "because if I'm wrong..." She tailed off and watched him for a moment as she tried to determine her next move.

"Whatever he thinks I've done," Coaver said quietly, "I haven't. Your agreement with the Russians... it's not something my government thinks is a good idea, but my mandate here is simply to observe and report back to Langley, nothing more."

Ruth watched him carefully for any signs that he was lying, but she found none. Of course, she never really expected there to be any. Jim Coaver was a pro, a boss spook, like Harry. "Who were you meeting this morning outside the park?" she asked.

He watched her cautiously, weighing up each possible answer he could give and what the result would be. In the end, he decided on the truth. "I was meeting a CIA deniable asset, nom de guerre Veronica Duran."

"Why?" she enquired, carefully hiding her surprise at his admission that he had been at the park this morning when Elena had been shot.

"She arranged the meet with me, had some information to pass on," he replied still watching her closely.

Ruth sighed and looked away frowning. He could be lying, of course, but then again all the circumstances pointed to him telling the truth. Why would he admit being present if he was guilty? And if he'd ordered the hit on Elena, why would he do it just outside the park where Elena was supposedly going to meet him, Harry's impostor? It didn't make sense. It was just too convenient. Jim Coaver was no amateur; he was too good to make such an elementary mistake. So she made the only decision she could; she decided to trust him.

"Right after you left the park, Veronica Duran took a shot at Elena Gavrik and missed," she said.

"What?" Coaver was so surprised by her statement that his eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

Ruth remained silent, waiting for him to say something more.

"She missed?" he asked, and when Ruth nodded, he frowned. "How far away was she?"

"About four, five meters," she replied.

"Huh," he exhaled. "Duran's Israeli trained. From that distance, she must have missed on purpose." He paused and then added, "So she arranged the meet to set me up, huh? I bet Hal took that well."

This time Ruth smiled briefly, before turning serious. "The only theory I have that makes any sense right now is that Elena Gavrik hired Veronica Duran, and like you said, is trying to pin the blame for the attacks on the partnership on you and the CIA. In Harry's eyes you are already an enemy, running Elena Gavrik to get intel on the Russian partnership, attempting to put a stop to it by arranging the assassination of Ilia Gavrik through Duran and stealing our laptop," she said rapidly. "The question is why?" Coaver looked thoughtful for a moment so she continued, "You know Harry. He's loyal to a fault and will do anything to protect the people he cares about and especially his children."

"Yeah," Jim Coaver nodded, "and he's always put the mother of his children up on a pedestal, refusing to admit that she shared the blame for his failed marriage and his subsequent estrangement from his children. I guess this is no different. He won't consider anything you say against Elena until you can prove that Sasha's not his."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm very worried about him. He's going to do something stupid and someone's going to get hurt. I already have someone working on proving that Sasha is not his son. Help me to prove that Elena is setting him up, that she's behind all this. Help me to find out why."

He nodded and murmured, "Give me twenty-four hours; then I'll be in touch."

"Thank you," she said.

"He's lucky to have you, Ruth," Coaver replied. "I hope he knows that." Then he turned and walked back toward his car, leaving Ruth to breath a sigh of relief.


	38. Chapter 38

_Same day, 9th December, 7 pm_

"Harry," she said as she stood in the doorway to his office. "I'm going home."

He looked up in time to see her turn away and walk out of the room. "Ruth," he called and got up, moving swiftly toward the door and following her out to her workstation. "Ruth," he murmured, "please come to my office. I need to speak to you."

"It's late, Harry," she replied without turning to look at him. "I need to get home to Fiona."

"Please," he murmured and reached over to clasp her arm.

"Not now," she insisted, shaking her arm free and turning to move toward the pods.

"Ruth," he warned, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. "Don't do this. We need to talk. We promised that we'd never go to bed angry or upset, remember?"

She paused and took a deep, shaky breath before striding off toward his office, going in, and stopping in front of his desk. Harry sighed in relief and followed her, closing and locking the door behind him, pulling the blinds closed, and coming to stand in front of her.

"I don't love her, Ruth," he stated. "I might have had feelings for her once upon a time, but she's a stranger to me now. I didn't want to be holding her... but she'd just been shot at, and I didn't feel I could just push her away... Truly, the only emotion I feel toward her now is guilt."

"And yet you're going out of your way to protect her," she said in a quiet voice brimming with emotion, "to ensure her safety, disregarding your own and mine in the process. You're considering going after a CIA Deputy Director, for Heaven's sake! Have you lost your mind? You gave me your word that you wouldn't do anything stupid, and yet here you are considering doing just that." She turned away from him, and began to pace across the room, trying to get her temper under control again.

"Ruth, I can understand you're angry-"

"Angry? You think I'm angry?" she demanded as she turned to face him once more. "I'm not angry, Harry. I'm livid. I've tried to understand what you're going through, to be supportive and set aside my own feelings because I love you and I don't want to throw away what we've had for the last couple of months, but I have limits too. And today, I reached my limit. I cannot stand the way you allow _that_ woman to manipulate you. Can you really not see what she's doing? Because the way you're going, soon there will be nothing left around you but death and destruction... You say that you have no feelings for her, but your actions speak otherwise. You're prepared to risk everything for her and for an assignment that will be over in a week. _One_ _week_, Harry. One week versus the rest of our lives together..." She turned away again, walking away from him as she struggled to maintain her composure and not break down in tears.

Harry was stunned by the vehemence of her words and it gave him pause. What was he doing contemplating going after Jim Coaver? If he did that, it would almost certainly spell the end of everything he had with Ruth, with Fiona, Graham, Jamie, Catherine, Catherine's unborn child. He would be hurting so many people he cared about, and for what? His injured pride? A woman he no longer cared for and a son he'd never known, a son who'd threatened Ruth and Fiona? He closed his eyes briefly. You're soft in the head, Pearce, he told himself.

When he opened his eyes, Ruth was standing before him again, her eyes soft and pleading. "Don't throw it all away, Harry," she murmured as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "It's not worth it."

"I'm sorry, Ruth. You're right," he sighed. "I didn't think. I won't go after Jim." He lifted his hands to her face, brushing away a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. "Forgive me, Ruth. I've been a fool. I've made a dog's dinner of everything again and I'm so sorry. I lost perspective. I swear I'll make it up to you. If it takes me the rest of my life, I'll make it up to you. I love you... so very much. I'd do anything for you. I'll go talk to Towers right now if you want me to. I'll tell him that I can't do this any more and I'll resign... I'd give everything I have for you, Ruth. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."

She shook her head and sighed. She wanted to stay angry with him a little longer, to not let him off the hook so easily, but when he looked at her like that and sounded so repentant, she just couldn't do it. And neither could she let him resign for her again. Albany was one time too many in her opinion, and thought she knew that he didn't resent her for it, she suspected that she wouldn't be so lucky a second time. So she murmured, "Just keep a level head, Harry, and remember who deserves your trust and your loyalty."

He nodded and replied, "You are the only one I trust, Ruth. I don't even trust myself sometimes, which is probably rather wise of me, all things considered." She smiled and he continued, pleased to have succeeded in making her do so. "We need to speed up these talks and quickly get this agreement signed, or not, before the CIA has time to mount any more attacks."

"I think that would be wise," she nodded. "Now, I'm going home."

"Okay," he replied. "I have to stay a little longer. I need to ring the Home Secretary and finish up some paperwork."

"All right," she agreed and took half a step closer to him so that their chests were almost touching. She noted the change in his breathing with pleasure as she murmured softly, "Don't be too long, Harry. I've missed you and I want you... tonight. You know how much I love the make up sex." She placed her hand against his chest and slid it slowly down his tie as she leant in and captured his lips in her own.

He groaned into her mouth and slid his arms around her, pulling her flush against him as he deepened their kiss. It had been ten days, the longest amount of time since just after Fiona had been born, and he'd missed her desperately. Being back on the Grid, dealing with Elena Gavrik and all the unresolved emotions that had cropped up, plus the long hours and unusually high operational load and intensity, had kept them physically and emotionally apart for the last week or so. In all honesty, he hadn't been sure if Ruth still wanted him, and with Elena Gavrik cropping up between them, he wouldn't have blamed her if she didn't. It felt so good to know that she loved and wanted him still, and he vowed to finish up quickly and head home earlier than usual.

They pulled apart a minute or so later, and Ruth took a step back before she murmured, "I'll take that as a yes then."

He nodded, momentarily unable to find his voice, and stepped back behind his desk, needing to put a physical barrier between them, lest he loose his self-control and take her right here, right now.

Then as if she could read his mind, she murmured seductively, "Perhaps one day before your commission is over and you leave this place for good, Harry, we could try out one of my numerous Thames House fantasies. The roof would probably be a little too cold in December, but your desk or the wall over there should be just perfect."

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes, fighting for control as he heard her walk away and leave his office, chuckling happily to herself at his reaction; revenge was very sweet.

* * *

_Two days later, 11th December, 11 am_

"Ruth," Harry said in an angry tone as he summoned her over to his office and closed the door after her, "Why wasn't I informed that Sasha Gavrik was attacked and injured last night?"

"I sent you a memo about it," she frowned.

"Hrumph," he grunted and turned to his desk, taking a seat and saying, "Ilia Gavrik wants to know what we're doing to apprehend those responsible."

"Well," she replied, walking up to stand in front of his desk, "Metro P.D. is investigating the incident. It looks like a robbery committed by a group of young thugs. He had everything stolen, watch, wallet, gun, ID-"

"Is he all right?" Harry asked quietly, concern etched on his features.

"He's fine," Ruth nodded. "He has a broken arm, his right, and a couple of broken ribs in addition to some bruising around his sides and face. I'm sure he's suffered worse in the past; he _is_ a KGB officer."

"Yes," Harry sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

"By the way," Ruth murmured softly, "I have an asset with some intel relevant to the Gavriks and the partnership. He wishes to meet me tonight and I was hoping you could come with me."

He looked up in alarm and frowned at her. "Who is this asset?"

"He's reliable," Ruth replied. "Don't worry, I'm not asking you to come for my safety. I just thought that you should hear what he had to say first hand."

Harry nodded. "Fine. What time?"

"At eight tonight," she said. "I have the details here," she added and handed him a piece of paper.

"Okay, good," he nodded. He opened his mouth to say something more, but his phone rang and he had to answer it.

It was the Home Secretary, so Ruth left him to it, moving back to her work station with a sigh of relief. She hoped this meeting tonight would help Harry to see the truth, and though she was worried about how he would react to the news about Elena and Sasha Gavrik, she knew he needed to know. They all did in order to find a way to stop her.


	39. Chapter 39

**I'll be going on holiday tomorrow (it's summer down here). I'll do my best to still continue with daily updates, but I apologise in advance if I fail. Cheers, S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Same day, 11th December, 8 pm_

Ruth and Harry arrived at the hotel after taking rigorous cleaning routes. The route they were to take to avoid being captured on CCTV was clearly mapped out on the piece of paper Ruth had been given, and they followed it carefully until they arrived at suite number 110 as instructed.

"Ruth," Harry murmured quietly. "How sure are you of our safety here?"

"One hundred percent," she whispered with a smile. "He's an old friend." Then she knocked on the door, spelling out the prearranged password, fire, in Morse code.

Moments later the door opened inwards and she stepped into the dim room, which was lit by a small lamp in the corner, with Harry close behind her. The door closed after them and the overhead light came on, causing them both to blink in it's sudden brightness. Before their eyes adjusted to the bright light, a familiar voice said, "I thought it was about time I looked you up, though I am a little hurt that you didn't do so yourself once you'd retired, Harry. Suffolk isn't that far from London, you know."

"Malcolm," Harry smiled.

"The very same," he replied.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Malcolm," Ruth cut in, and stepping forward, she embraced him briefly before pulling back to look at him. "You look good. Retirement suits you."

"And you, Ruth, look wonderful," he answered. "Motherhood certainly suits you."

"Thank you," she smiled.

Malcolm turned to Harry and added, "Congratulations, Harry. You finally got what you wanted and deserved. You look years younger."

"Thank you, my friend," Harry smiled as he shook Malcolm's hand, "but was all this secrecy really necessary? You know you can just drop in on us any time."

"Thank you, Harry," Malcolm replied. "Unfortunately today's meeting is business as well as pleasure. Ruth asked me to look into something for her that she wanted to keep away from the Grid."

Harry frowned and turned to look at Ruth, but before he had a chance to ask her about it, there was a knock on the door in the form of another Morse code message. Malcolm motioned for them to take a seat on the sofa, which they did as he switched the light off and moved toward the door to let the new arrival in. Once the door was closed, the light came on and they all blinked in the brightness.

Harry's jaw clenched in anger when he saw who was standing before him and he ground out, "What's he doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Harry," Jim Coaver murmured in response as he eyed his friend up, not quite trusting that he didn't have a weapon concealed about his person that he might choose to use against him.

"Right," Ruth murmured and got up. "Everyone's here now. Malcolm meet, Jim Coaver. Mr. Coaver, this is Malcolm."

"Jim," he smiled as he turned to her. "Don't make me feel old, Ruth."

"Sorry, Jim," Ruth smiled.

"That's better," he murmured before turning to Malcolm and shaking his hand. "Malcolm Wynn-Jones if I'm not mistaken," he said. "Harry's best technical officer if memory serves. He was always singing your praises."

Malcolm blushed and shook hands with Coaver murmuring his thanks. Harry was eyeing everyone from his place on the sofa, feeling angry and betrayed. His eyes came to rest on Ruth, the woman he would have trusted with his life, the woman he thought would never betray him, but she had and it hurt more than he'd thought possible. Ruth met his gaze, and seeing the pain in his eyes, she knew what he must be thinking. She gave him a tentative smile and an apologetic look before turning to the others and saying, "Let's take a seat and begin. We don't have a lot of time."

They each sat down, Ruth beside Harry on the sofa, Jim across from him in an armchair and Malcolm in a chair by Harry.

"Right," Ruth began addressing the group of men before her as if she was back at Thames House briefing the team. "We all know that Ilia Gavrik has been working with our government on an agreement between Britain and Russia. If it succeeds, it will be his biggest political achievement to date. We also know that Elena Gavrik used to be an MI-6 and CIA asset, turned by Harry and Jim in '81 while they were both stationed in Berlin." Jim and Harry's eyes met across the distance that separated them, their gazes fathomless. "Harry set a honey trap for Elena Gavrik and they became lovers, resulting in the conception of a child, Sasha Gavrik. Subsequently, Harry attempted to conduct an unauthorised extraction of Elena and her son, which Jim here stopped." Harry's eyes darted to hers momentarily before moving back to Jim Coaver, the anger he was feeling clearly visible in their depths now. So Jim Coaver had been telling Ruth about Treptower park. Is that how he'd got her to trust him?

"Now," Ruth continued, "Sasha Gavrik found some recent communiques that suggested that Harry was still running Elena. Harry of course was not, so he concluded that someone was posing as him. In one of the communiques that were given to us by the charming Elena," she couldn't resist adding sarcastically, earning her a smile from Jim and Malcolm and a frown from Harry, "a specific night and a trip to the Kizlov ballet was mentioned, which according to Harry was not an official op and, therefore, was only known to Harry, Jim and Elena herself. This and the discovery that a certain Veronica Duran, a CIA deniable asset, was responsible for arranging the assassination attempt on Ilia Gavrik and the theft of the MI-5 laptop, led Harry to believe that Jim was the impostor and that the CIA are trying to derail the talks through the use of Black Ops."

She paused for breath and looked around. Harry was glaring at Jim, Jim was looking non-pulsed, and Malcolm was just watching them uneasily. "Now," she stated. "My research into the three of you led me to believe that Elena Gavrik is not who she seems." That got Harry's attention and he turned to look at her. "Initially I thought that her attempts to manipulate you, Harry, were just done to see if she still could. However, I realized that there was more to it then that when she began to try to manipulate me too, by trying to plant seeds of doubt about your feelings for me. The most convincing evidence, however, was her attempted assassination. I couldn't bring myself to believe that someone as experienced as Jim would hire an assassin and arrange the details of the hit at the location where it was to take place. And not only that, but the assassin hired would be incompetent enough to actually miss from a few meters away!"

Harry blinked. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, speaking for the first time since Jim's appearance.

"Because you wouldn't have believed me. If you'd believed that Jim was not behind the attacks and, therefore, was not the impostor, it only left one explanation. That Elena herself wrote those communiques in order to frame Jim, destroy your friendship with him, and blame the Americans for sabotaging the talks."

Harry stared. "Why would she do that?"

Ruth shrugged and turned to Jim, "That's what I'm hoping Jim can tell us."

"I can see why you love this woman, Harry," Jim smiled. "You're one lucky bastard to have her. I hope you know that."

Harry swallowed and nodded, all the love he'd always felt for her coming flooding back in an instant. He reached his hand across to her, placing it over her hands as they lay folded together in her lap. "I do," he murmured and she smiled, the relief she felt evident in her eyes.

"Good," he joked, "because I'm sure there are plenty of guys biding their time, just waiting for you to screw it up so they can step into your shoes."

"There are," Malcolm confirmed quietly, causing everyone else to laugh and the tension to finally break.

"Right," Jim continued, "to business. We've been working on a number of leads relating to your talks with the Ruskies over the last few weeks. Yesterday we were finally able to trace a call made by Veronica Duran after the assassination attempt on Ilia Gavrik. The recipient of the phone call was one Michail Levrov, formerly part of a group within the KGB that handled Black Ops and currently a business man with ties to a right-wing ultra-nationalist group. Interestingly enough, his name also corps up in Berlin in the early '80s, but we haven't been able to find any further links there. However, we were able to obtain Elena Gavrik's medical records from that time. She gave birth to Alexandr Iliavich Gavrik on the 10th of November 1981. Just over eight months after you first... seduced her, Harry, which I thought was interesting-"

"And ties in nicely with the information Ruth asked me to look into," Malcolm cut in. "After obtaining DNA samples from Sasha Gavrik and you, Harry, I-"

"How?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Oh, come on, Hal," Jim replied with some amusement. "The kid was beaten up pretty badly last night, which I guess was Malcolm's doing." He looked at Malcolm, raising one eyebrow in enquiry.

"Well," Malcolm murmured quietly, "I didn't do the deed myself, but I did use a contact I know who was able to put the lad out of action as requested."

All eyes turned to Ruth who blushed and then looked at them defiantly. "That man threatened my daughter," she declared, "and no one gets away with that."

There was a look of admiration in Jim's eyes as he continued, "Well in any case, it would have been easy to get a blood sample from the guy once he was knocked out. And as for you, Harry, well, I imagine your wife could think of a bunch of different ways to do _that..._ some of them more enjoyable than others."

Jim chuckled as Ruth blushed, while Harry looked dumbfounded as he turned to stare at her. Malcolm cleared his throat. "It was a cheek swab obtained while you were asleep," he clarified. "Anyway, the point is that the DNA samples did not match. You are not the father of Sasha Gavrik, Harry."

Harry looked stunned, and when he failed to say anything, Jim continued, "Which ties in with the medical records we found and proves that Elena Gavrik was already pregnant when she began her affair with you, and that she probably knew it."

"But why? What did she have to gain by making Harry believe that he was the father of her son?" Ruth asked.

"Perhaps in the hope that Harry would help her defect," Malcolm suggested.

"That doesn't make sense," Jim replied, "because she would have ended up as a single mother in a foreign country. She would never have been able to live with Harry for her own protection. Besides which, Hal was still married at the time... Unfortunately, we're not in possession of all the facts."

"Could it have been Ilia Gavrik behind it all?" Malcolm asked.

"The thought did occur to me," Jim replied. "I thought it was possible that he'd discovered that she was Harry's asset, forced her to tell him everything, and has been trying to get revenge since. But Elena's deception goes back years, and I'm sure Ilia would never have used his own wife for a honey trap. He worshipped the ground she walked on. I have an idea that it has something to do with this Levrov character. He's obviously linked to the attacks on the partnership, as is Elena Gavrik."

"And you said that he was in Berlin in the early eighties," Ruth continued his train of thought. "What if he recruited her? You said he was KGB. He could have recruited her to honey trap Harry!" She said the last statement with great excitement causing the three men to stare at her in amazement. "What?" she asked when their gazes remain on her for long moments and they all started smiling, Harry with eyes full of love, Malcolm with fondness, and Jim with amusement.

"I hope Gian will feel just as excited and pleased if she ever discovers that I've been honey trapped," Jim chuckled. "You really are something else, Ruth."

"The idea is plausible," Malcolm said thoughtfully, stepping in to rescue Ruth. "But we need proof and we need to figure out what they're going to do next."

Jim nodded and murmured, "Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm sure Langley would go ballistic if they found out I'd been helping you Brits to save your partnership with the Ruskies, so I'm going to bow out now while I'm still ahead of the game."

He got to his feet and everyone else did also. He bid Malcolm goodnight and then turned to Ruth who stepped forward and gave him a hug. "Thank you, Jim. I really appreciate your help."

"You're more than welcome, Ruth. What are friends for, eh?" he said as he looked over her shoulder at Harry.

"If you're still in London by the end of all this," Ruth smiled, "you'll have to come round to dinner."

"It's a date," he nodded.

"I'll give you a ring," she smiled as Harry stepped forward and offered Jim his hand.

"Thank you, Jim," he said. "I'd say I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I distrusted you."

"Ah, it's all right, Hal," he grinned as he took Harry's hand and leaned in for a hug, clapping him on the back with his left hand. "It's all water under the bridge. In your position, I might have come to the same conclusions, though I think that I'd have picked up on the whole 'your the father on my kid' trick a little sooner. I mean, he looks nothing like you, Harry."

Harry merely nodded and pursed his lips, not knowing what to say. He was finding it hard to deal with all the emotions the revelations of the last half hour had produced, so he'd pushed them all to the side for now. There would be time to think later. He felt Ruth's hand slip through his arm and squeeze his bicep gently in support and he smiled slightly. Dear, sweet, strong Ruth was always there for him. He really had no clue what he would do without her.


	40. Chapter 40

_Next day, 12th December, 2 pm_

He paused in front of the door to compose himself, straightening his tie before reaching for the handle and opening the door. Elena stood framed in the doorway, looking elegant and poised as always.

"Thank you for coming," he murmured, his voice deep with the strain of holding himself together, not letting his knowledge of her betrayal show on his face.

She stepped into the hall, looking around her before turning toward him and saying, "Tell me you don't live here."

He closed the door behind her and answered, "Nobody lives here. Well... nobody real."

She turned and walked into the sitting room, reaching to flick on the light. He put his hand out to stop her, sliding it across hers and murmuring, "Best not. We 're not supposed to be here."

She held his gaze for a moment, her eyes betraying nothing, before turning and walking toward the fireplace. Leaning into the door frame to brace himself, he said, "Elena, Jim Coaver has left the country and I will make sure that he doesn't return."

She paused before turning to face him, her gaze turning angry though her voice was steady, controlled as she said, "But he tried to kill me, and you let him get away?"

"He denies that. He says that he isn't the person that's been running you," he murmured.

"And you believe him?" she asked, her face betraying her surprise.

"I'm inclined to," he replied, watching her carefully.

She looked away, surprised, upset, and probably working out her next move as she took a seat in the chair next to her. "But who would be so desperate to kill the partnership as America?" she asked as she turned her head to look at him. "If it is not Jim, then who, Harry? Who?"

He looked away unable for the moment to hold her gaze as she lied once more to his face. He shrugged, stepped into the room, and walked across to the window, gazing out at the street bellow. He was silent for a little while, contemplating his next words. He'd wanted to meet her again now that he knew the truth about Sasha, to see if he could discern anything that he had missed before, and to see if she would give anything away. For once, he had the upper hand and he didn't want to loose that, he mustn't let her suspect that he knew. "Ilia," he said eventually, "has he changed over the years?"

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"As a man, as a husband," he murmured.

She took a deep, shaky breath and replied, "It took me many years to see him as that. To begin with I felt that he was... my captor." He turned away from the window to look at her as she continued speaking. "But after a while, I realized that we were both trapped. Me by my betrayal, him by his duty."

"For a man you betrayed so completely," Harry frowned, "you speak fondly of him."

She looked angry and surprised for a moment and said, "For all I hated his beliefs, his system that he defended, he was a good man then and he is a good man now. _He_ never left me standing in Treptower Park waiting for an extraction that never came."

Harry looked away guiltily, annoyed with himself that she could still manipulate him like this, but unable to get rid of the feelings that her words evoked. Apparently, it would take longer than a day. He sighed deeply.

"Why are you asking about Ilia?" Elena enquired after a moment.

"I don't believe Jim Coaver is behind what's been happening," he said carefully, "which only leaves Ilia."

"No!" she exclaimed and got up, walking across the room as she added, "I don't believe it. Ilia's a modernist, a politician. He has put all that behind him."

"You can't put is behind you," Harry objected. "Look at us."

"It can't be Ilia," she demanded, looking and sounding upset as she walked over to stand in front of him. "I share his bed; I would be able to tell."

"Maybe he kept it from you most of all, Elena," Harry admitted quietly as he searched her face.

"What are you saying?" she whispered in alarm. "That he might know about us?"

"We cannot underestimate him," he murmured.

She looked upset, close to tears as she raised her hand to touch his face, pressing it against his cheek and lips. She was good, he thought and felt disgusted with himself, that he'd let her use him and had fallen for her deception so completely. He raised his hand to capture hers, murmuring her name in warning.

She closed her eyes and swallowed, playing the scared and hurt innocent to perfection. "Kiss me," she whispered, on the verge of tears. "It is the least that you can do."

Repulsed, he pulled her into his arms, fearing that his face would betray his feelings and give the game away. "Elena," he whispered after a moment once his emotions were back under control. "I'm sorry. I could have done so much more."

"Please, please, don't let it be him," she pleaded clinging to him tightly.

Minutes passed as he held her against his chest, wondering if any of it had been real, for her and for him. He'd spent most of last night pondering this question. What had his feelings for this woman been? She had certainly dazzled him and he had wanted her badly, but had he been in love with her? He'd concluded that he had felt something for her, but it had faded, just like it had with Jane. At the time, he'd thought it was love, but since he'd fallen in love with Ruth, he'd had to acknowledge that it was not. At least it was not as deep a love as what he felt for her. His love for Ruth had never once wavered, nor had he forgotten her whilst she was away. Not once, since he'd realized that he was in love with her, had he wanted anyone else. Despite his body's occasional need for sexual release, he'd found, to his surprise, that he'd had no desire to bed another woman, but instead had preferred to bang one out while thinking of her, dreaming of her, waiting for her.

Turning his thoughts back to Elena Gavrik, he released her and took a step back saying, "It's probably best if we go now. We don't want to be missed. I'll sort this out, Elena."

She nodded and softened her eyes, murmuring, "Thank you, Harry."

"How is Sasha?" he asked and was surprised at the concern he still felt for the boy even though he knew now that he wasn't his.

"He will be okay," she replied. "I was so worried about him. When I was told... I thought that it was another attack on the partnership, that he was badly hurt. But they say it was just a robbery."

"Yes," Harry replied. "Hopefully the deal will be signed soon and you can take him home."

"Yes," she nodded and gazed at him for long seconds.

"Shall we?" he asked as he shifted his body away from her and lifted his arm in invitation.

She moved out of the room, toward the front door, and he followed, stepping around her to open it, saying, "Best if we leave separately."

"Of course," she smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek, taking him by surprise. "Goodbye, Harry."

"Bye," he murmured as he opened the door and she slipped out, pausing on the doorstep to look at him once more before turning and walking away.

He shut the door quickly, leaning against it for a moment as he wiped a hand across his cheek to remove the offending kiss before moving back into the sitting room. He stood at the window once more and contemplated his next move. Elena, Levrov and whoever else was in on this plot, were attempting to sabotage the partnership. Their targets so far had been Ilia Gavrik and MI-5, which indicated that anyone involved in the talks was at risk. That was another reason that he hadn't wanted to confront Elena today. He suspected that he and Ruth were only safe because Elena still believed that she could manipulate them to do her bidding. Which indicated that they planned to use him, perhaps as a last resort, to sabotage the partnership. That's what he would have done in their place. Give enough information to convince him that they were serious and let him do the rest. In the mean time, there were others that needed protection. The Home Secretary and Ilia Gavrik being the main candidates for the next attack.

He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly; he'd hardly slept at all last night. The movement of his arm caused a whiff of her perfume that was clinging to his clothes to reach his nostrils. Smelling her on him suddenly made him feel revolted and he pulled his jacket off and flung it angrily on a nearby chair. He didn't want to smell anyone but Ruth on his clothes, on his skin. Just Ruth for the rest of his life. And Fiona perhaps, he conceded with a smile as he thought of his daughter, the way she enjoyed having her head nestled under his chin as he walked around the house, humming to her softly. She was so warm, so small, so soft and precious.

His phone rang, intruding on his thoughts. "Yes," he answered.

"Harry, it's Towers," Ruth's worried voice replied. "There was a car bomb; it took out half the street, injuring five people including the Home Secretary. His driver's in critical condition, Harry."

"I'm on my way," he stated, feeling the anger rise up inside him.

"He's at Guy and St. Thomas," she replied.

"Right."

"How did it go?" she asked anxiously as he let himself out of the house, closing and locking the door.

"As expected," he murmured. "She didn't reveal anything other than the fact that she's still playing on my guilt, but to what end, I do not know. She also spoke highly of Ilia, said he was a good man."

"Perhaps he is in her eyes," Ruth replied.

"Ruth, the man has killed-" Harry said, his voice rising with his anger.

"What I meant, Harry," she murmured down the phone in a soothing voice, "is that he too was fighting for his country, he too did things that were morally reprehensible, but that perhaps he's changed... like you have."

He sighed and nodded, forgetting that she couldn't see him. "However, I have never sought to benefit financially or otherwise from the state I chose to protect."

"I never said that _I _think he's a good man, Harry," Ruth smiled. "And he's certainly nowhere near as wonderful as you."

He smiled in spite of himself and replied, "I'd better go. I'm in my car already." He paused and added, "I love you."

"I love you more," she murmured and heard him chuckle before he hung up.


	41. Chapter 41

_Same day, 12th December, 9 pm_

He looked up in surprise as Ilia Gavrik approached his table with a drink. It was Vodka he noticed and almost smiled as his mind drifted back to the office party last year, the last time he'd experimented with the drink that had led to the biggest blessing in his life, Ruth and Fiona.

"I come in peace," Ilia said and then added with a little half-smile, "but I am of course prepared for war... should you prefer it."

Harry simply nodded his head and gestured to the empty seat across from him. He'd stopped at the pub on his way home today, something he hadn't done in ages, but tonight, he felt like he needed a drink... alone. Just occasionally, he needed some space.

He glanced around for Ilia's bodyguards, but they were not immediately apparent.

"They stayed downstairs," Ilia stated as if he could read his mind.

Harry turned his eyes on his old adversary and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Ilia?"

He was silent for a few moments. "We are not so different, you and I, Harry," he stated eventually in his deep measured tones. "Old warriors who have attempted to move on, to change our lives."

"I was doing rather well until you showed up again," Harry muttered darkly, making Ilia laugh.

He watched Harry thoughtfully for a moment as he took a swig of his Scotch. Then he said, "You know, Harry, it is a miracle for anyone to find love... and especially people like us. You cannot find the same solace in ideology. You have to take a hold of love when you find it. However imperfect, whatever the compromise, whatever the cost." He paused and Harry wondered where he was going with this train of thought. Then he continued, "so whilst I still work for Russia, I no longer have any drams for her, nor any enmity toward the West. We are, all of us, faded empires. Whether we sign this treaty or not, is of no personal interest."

Harry pursed his lips and replied, "I find that hard to believe, Ilia. I am told that it would be the biggest achievement of your political career."

Ilia shrugged and said, "My career is of little consequence to me. I have a home. I have a wife and a son. I have a tortoise in the garden if you can believe that. We have friends and relatives. It is a place full of life."

"Sounds idyllic until you consider all the people you're executed to get there," Harry couldn't help pointing out.

"And of course, you've never killed anyone, Harry," he replied calmly. "It gets so much easier to kill as we rise. All we have to do is pick up the phone... and I hate that. I want the gun to be in my hand... not in some boys that I have ordered, sitting behind a desk being God. That way lies a black soul... I didn't want to be you, Harry."

"What _do_ you want, Ilia?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"I know Elena spied for you," he replied in measured tones. Harry managed to keep his face impassive despite the shock of this revelation. "The KGB took her less than two years after you fled from Berlin," Ilia continued. "She was suspected of espionage, interrogated. I thought at first it was a mistake. I soon realized it was not. I felt betrayed of course, but I couldn't bear the thought of loosing her. I did everything I could. Pleaded her innocence even as I knew her guilt. And miraculously... it worked. They let her go. I never told her I was the one who had secured her freedom."

"So all this time, you knew?" Harry asked.

"That you had turned her, that she had spied for you, that she had loved you, that it had ended," he confirmed. "Not many people live with betrayals. It may be the least I deserve, but... I have a house and wife. I have a son... and a tortoise in the garden."

Harry took another gulp of his drink before replying, "You're a bigger man that I'd thought, Ilia." He contemplated what the Russian had done and wondered if he'd ever be able to do the same. Once again he felt extremely lucky to have Ruth, a woman who would never betray him. He was sure that she loved him... and that, if she ever stopped loving him, she would tell him. She might leave him, but she would never betray him. With that sad and yet comforting thought, he drained his glass and rose from the table, saying, "I must get home. I'll see you in the morning, Ilia."

"Good night, Harry," Ilia replied.

Harry was a little uneasy as he descended the stairs and exited the pub. Ilia may have forgiven Elena, but that didn't mean that he'd forgiven him. He walked briskly down the street in the cold December air, turning his collar up against the cold and digging his hands deeper into his pockets. His eyes scanned the road up ahead, keenly looking out for anything out of place and avoiding the few pedestrians that were braving the bitter cold; you never knew if one of them was in possession of the means to inject a lethal drug into your blood stream as they casually bumped into you on the street. It was an old, cold war trick that was still as effective as ever. Two blocks down the road, he hailed a cab.

He got out a couple of blocks from home and took a detour through the park. He used to walk Scarlet here, he remembered sadly, suddenly missing his faithful companion. Perhaps they'd get another dog once all this was over, he thought as he turned into his street, satisfied that no one was tailing him. He noted that the lights were off, except for the lamp in the sitting room, and he hoped that Ruth was waiting up for him. Suddenly, his desire to be alone tonight had vanished and he craved her company, needed to loose himself in her love.

He unlocked the door and entered the house, closing and locking the door behind him before removing his coat and shoes, sliding on his slippers, and placing his keys on the hall table. He could hear music coming from the sitting room. Something new, he noted. He hadn't heard it before, but he liked the melody. He paused listening as the music drifted out to him.

"_I have died everyday waiting for you.  
Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you  
for a thousand years;  
I'll love you for a thousand more._

_And all along I believed I would find you._  
_Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you_

_for a thousand years;  
I'll love you for a thousand more."_

Quietly he walked to the sitting room and stopped in the doorway. Ruth was sitting on the sofa, her feet curled up underneath her as she leant back against the cushions, her fingers playing across her thigh in time to the music, her eyes closed as she sang along to the song. He stood there motionless, taking in the vision before him as the music filled the air around him. _I have died everyday waiting for you; darling don't be afraid I have loved you for a thousand years_... this was exactly how he'd felt this time last year. _I'll love you for a thousand more..._

Eventually the song ended, but Ruth didn't open her eyes. She simply lay there and waited for it to begin again. She'd put it on repeat, he realized and could no longer hold himself back. "Ruth," he murmured and stepped into the room.

She opened her eyes, lifting her head to look at him and smiling. "Harry," she whispered with pleasure, "you're home."

"I am," he replied as he approached and sat down beside her. "You're..." he paused and swallowed momentarily overcome by emotion. "Stunning," he finished.

"Thank you," she replied and reached her hand up to stroke his cheek. "You're freezing," she declared.

"It's cold out," he answered. "What is this song?"

"It's called 'A thousand years' by Christina Perri," she smiled. "Every time I hear it on the radio, I think of you, so I bought it today. I needed something to cheer me up."

"Ruth," he murmured as he slowly leant in to kiss her, his eyes never leaving hers. He paused a hair's breadth away and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you more," she answered as she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him to her.

* * *

_Two days later, 14th December, 11am_

She watched her get up and walk toward her, hiding the antipathy and contempt she felt for her behind a mask of calm control. A born spook he'd called her, she thought and had to suppress a smile.

"Ruth, I have to see Harry," Elena said as she stopped before her. "I have new information."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Ruth replied, no longer hiding the animosity she felt for the other woman.

Elena seemed surprised and replied, "You don't understand; lives are at risk, but I can only speak to him."

"What do you mean?" Ruth asked.

Elena turned around for a moment to look at her husband and Towers who were posing for press pictures after signing the agreement. Presumably she was checking if the coast was clear, Ruth thought. "The woman who shot at me is Veronica Duran," the Russian said as she turned back to face Ruth, her eyes hard and calculating and for once reflecting the true nature of their owner. "A freelance, black ops asset who worked for the CIA. Collison, the man who tried to assassinate my husband, gained entry by hacking onto the security database with a Riggs net worm. The bomb left for your Home Secretary was planted by a team of mercenaries led by Rustam Ilescu, a Moldovan born man educated in America. Now, do you see why I have to speak to Harry?" Ruth did her best to look surprised as Elena Gavrik turned to look at her husband again before adding, "Get me in a room with Harry, today." Then she walked away from her and sat down in the seat she'd vacated just a moment ago.

Ruth turned away, pulling her phone out of her pocket and calling her husband. "Hi, it's me," she murmured a little nervously.

"Hello," he replied, his voice taking on the low burr he reserved just for her.

"It's happening. She's ready to play her last hand," she said.

"Good," Harry smiled. "We're ready for her. You know what to do. I'm sending Calum to help you extract her." She nodded forgetting that he couldn't see her, but as if he could sense her hesitation and fear, he murmured quietly, "You can do this, Ruth. You're a born spook. This'll be our last op together. Let's have some fun."

She smiled at the lightness and playfulness of his tone and knew that he was enjoying this. She supposed that after so many years in the service, it must be nice for him to go into an operation knowing that it's his last, that he'll be leaving as soon as it's over. "All right. Let's give em what's for," she replied and heard him laugh before she hung up. Harry Pearce, boss spook, ruthless and cold hearted bastard was back, she thought with a smile, and Elena Gavrik, Michail Levrov and anyone else involved in this plot were screwed.


	42. Chapter 42

_Same day, 14th December, 1:30 pm_

"Elena, if you've withheld information that could have helped us earlier," Ruth said quietly as she stood behind the Russian in the lift, "we're going to have a problem."

"You understand the guilt Harry's always felt about me, about Sasha? Do you think it's what's kept you from being together for so long?" she asked. Then when Ruth didn't answer she added, "Don't worry. Harry will see things differently soon."

Ruth had to bite the inside of her cheek and ball her hands into fists to stop herself from giving the Russian a piece of her mind. She had never felt such a strong desire to hit anyone before. Fucking bitch, she thought, you just wait until Harry's finished with you. The thought comforted her and helped her to calm down as they exited the lift and she took the lead. They walked out of the hotel and down the road, getting into the back of the car that was waiting for them.

"Where to girls?" Calum asked as they got in. "And don't say south of the river."

It made Ruth almost smile. She loved Calum's caustic wit and she realized that she'd miss him very much when she left in a few days. Perhaps she wouldn't have to though if she took up the Home Secretary's offer. She pushed aside the thought as quickly as it had appeared, turning her full attention on the current op. There would be time to think later. As the car pulled out into of the parking spot and into London traffic, Ruth surreptitiously sent a message to Harry from her phone.

The drive was conducted in silence and by the time they arrived at the deserted cold war bunker Harry had selected as their interrogation site, they were all relieved to get out of the confining space of the car. Calum and Ruth escorted Elena inside and left her in the interrogation room, closing and locking the door behind them before they went to find Harry and the others. Tariq had remained on the Grid in order to have access to the full power of the MI-5 computers and network. Calum had a laptop he could connect remotely to the Grid, and Erin and Dimitri were ready to move the moment they got the necessary information from Elena. They were more prepared that Elena could possibly suspect, so they had the upper hand in that respect. However, depending on the nature of the threat she was going to expose, their advantage might not last long, and it worried Harry. At least, no one would guess where they were holding Elena. That was the reason behind his decision to bring her here. Ilia Gavrik was probably already aware of who had taken his wife and he meant to make it very difficult for him to find her. They needed all her intel first.

* * *

_Same day, 14th December, 3 pm_

"Shall we?" he smiled at Ruth.

"You're enjoying this far too much," she murmured as they turned toward the room where Elena Gavrik was being held.

"Do you blame me?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm rather looking forward to you taking her down a peg or two, but I'm a little concerned that you're getting a little cocky. We can't afford any mistakes."

He smiled, surprised both at Ruth's gentle reprimand and at the fact that he didn't mind it. Just a few months ago she would never have felt comfortable enough to say something like that at work, and he would have seen it as an act of insubordination. It pleased him that they had grown so close that they no longer felt threatened by each other, and he trusted her not to make such comments in front of the others; she knew better than to undermine his authority in such a way. "I hate to point this out, Ruth," he murmured in reply, "but I was doing this while you were still in nappies. I think I know how to handle this interrogation."

"I have no doubt that you do, Harry," she smiled sweetly, "but you're wrong on two counts."

"Which are?"

"First, you just _loved_ pointing it out," she replied, "and second, I was most definitely not in nappies when you first joined the service seeing as I was potty trained before two."

Harry was still chuckling as they approached the large metal door behind which Elena was being held. Erin and Dimitri were waiting just outside the door, standing closer together than strictly necessary and it made Ruth smile. She wondered if they were together already, or if they hadn't got that far yet. Certainly they wouldn't take as long as she and Harry had. They were too young and bold to do that, though she thought that, for her and Harry, it had worked out for the best in the end and had been well worth the wait. Still, she mused, Erin would probably want to wait until she'd established her authority as Head of Section before pursuing a relationship with Dimitri. They were probably not quite there yet then, she concluded.

"Ready?" Harry asked and he looked between his two field officers. They nodded, and with a last look at Ruth, he took the key from Calum who'd just made an appearance and prepared to enter the room, pushing aside all thoughts unrelated to the operation and focusing his mind on breaking Elena Gavrik.

She looked as elegant as ever as he approached, carefully keeping his expression neutral.

"There is an attack planed on London in a few hours," she stated after taking a moment to appraise him. "I don't know any details. All I have is that number of a go-between: 020 7946 0628. He handles their communications."

"Who are they?" Harry asked.

"I will tell you everything I know, but please, you must find this man," she replied, and seeing Harry hesitate, she added, "There isn't much time." She took a step closer. "Harry, they want hundreds of deaths."

He glared at her for a moment, anger radiating from his eyes as he clenched his jaw and pursed his lips. Were they really planning an attack on his city, he thought angrily. If so, he would make them pay. Turning toward the door he left the room to instruct his team.

"The number she gave is registered to an Edward Flueling, aged 41," Calum said as he approached. "I'll get an address."

Harry began issuing orders, "Dimitri and Erin, you go to Flueling's residence. Calum will give you everything he's got en route. Ruth, get Tariq to run a background check on him and pull CCTV from around his flat. See if we can identify any of his recent visitors. I need to speak to the Home Secretary and then Ruth I want you in here with me."

Everyone scurried off to do his bidding as he slid his phone out of his pocket and informed the Home Secretary about the possible attack. Then he turned to Ruth, saying, "I want her to think she has the upper hand, that she's in control of the situation. It's the quickest way we'll get her to talk." Ruth nodded her understanding and they returned to the interrogation room together.


	43. Chapter 43

**I'm not very happy with this chapter, but I didn't want to delay posting any longer. This is the last chapter with dialogue from the show as I've been mostly trying to follow events from the original series. About three more chapters left I think. Thanks for your reviews. S.C.**_  
_

* * *

_Same day, 14th December, 4 pm_

"Have you found him? The go-between?" Elena asked as they entered the room. She was sitting on one of the wooden chairs, looking composed and at ease.

"We have an address," Harry replied. "My team are on their way." He waited a moment working out the best strategy before saying, "Elena we need to know everything." Thinking back to their last conversation about Ilia, he added, "You've been protecting the person behind the attacks on the partnership and I understand why, but it has to stop now. It wasn't Jim, was it?"

She looked at him defiantly for a moment and then said, "It was me, Harry." He managed to look surprised as she continued, "Ilia wants this deal; he always has. I know the details of the attacks because I ordered them."

"How? Why?" he asked in mock astonishment.

"Have you ever told anyone the truth about how you recruited me?" she enquired calmly.

He felt fear run through him momentarily before he managed to control it. Ruth would forgive him; he was sure of it now, after everything they'd been through in the last two weeks. "You know?" he asked.

"Yes," Elena replied and looked at Ruth. "I can see from your face that he hasn't. Too ashamed?"

"Yes," he sighed and sat down across from her.

"What has this got to do with the attack, Elena?" Ruth asked in a firm voice.

"Harry and I were in love," she said, ignoring the question, "or at least, we thought we were. But Harry had to choose between being a good man or a good spy. My parents were killed in a car accident, but Harry and Jim forged a KGB case file showing that they had been wrongly arrested, tortured, murdered. He used that lie to turn me. He asked me to spy on my country, my husband, to risk my life everyday, to risk the safety of his own son. It was the making of him." Harry's eyes flashed in anger as she lied yet again about the boy and he instantly felt his sense of shame disappear. She hadn't been a civilian that he'd used. She'd been a spy. He was sure of it now. "Do you see him differently now?" Elena asked Ruth and he held his breath, keeping his eyes downcast.

"Yes," Ruth murmured after a beat. "I see he's given more than I'd thought possible."

Relief swept through him, but outwardly he didn't react. He sat motionless for a moment thinking of the best tactic to use to break her.

"How did you find out I'd lied to you?" Harry asked as he got up and approached Elena.

"I didn't find out," she replied. "I always knew. I was a spy before you met me. You were not recruiting me; I was recruiting you."

When he heard her confirm it like that, with perfect composure as always, he felt the pain anew and he closed his eyes momentarily as he exhaled and turned away. It took only a moment for the pain to subside and be replaced by relief and then anger, anger at her for the lies she'd told him, but mostly, anger at himself for allowing her to dupe him so easily with the oldest trick in the book.

"Poor, sweet Harry," Elena said, snapping him out of his momentary indulgence in self-recrimination. "I was recruited by a group of men within the KGB who handled unofficial operations. They knew that you were planning to turn me, so they asked me to sleep with you, to pretend to be your loyal agent, your lover. That part was not hard. The night you told me the lie about my parents, my handlers had warned me what to expect. I was desperate for you not to tell me. My feelings for you were real. I wanted you to prove everyone wrong... For a moment, I wanted to tell you the truth. I tried to call, but you weren't there... From that moment on, I was a double agent." She stood up and added decisively, "They were right; they were the only ones I could trust."

"It's impossible," Harry replied shaking his head in mock disbelief. "You gave me good intel for years."

"Some... to gain your confidence," she admitted. "The long term plan was to use you to channel disinformation to the West, and eventually, to turn you. But you were too decent, you burned me. So then I was to pretend to defect, become a plant, but Jim Coaver stopped you."

"And Ilia knew all this?" Ruth couldn't help asking as she stepped forward.

"He knew nothing," she replied. "I was recruited two weeks after we were married. He was never told."

"Ilia did know," Harry said, taking control of the interrogation once more and giving Elena a look of pure contempt. "He found out you'd been spying for me, but he forgave you, he kept quiet for the sake of your family."

She seemed momentarily thrown by this revelation, but she managed to keep her composure as she replied, "He's a good man."

He stared at her for a moment as he worked out his next move. Having her believe that she was in control of the situation seemed to be working well.

"Ask me, Harry," she smiled, pleased with his apparent discomposure. "Be brave."

He hesitated for a moment, looking angry and hurt, before he murmured, "Is Sasha my son?"

She paused for several seconds before saying, "No. He's Ilias."

"It was a lie designed to bond me to you," he ground out as he approached her, "to compromise me. You let me believe for almost thirty years that he was my son."

"What about your lie?" she demanded, as for the first time, she lost her composure. "You told me my parents were tortured, died in fear and pain, shot in the head like dogs." Then regaining her self-control she added, "The only difference is my lie was believed."

Harry turned away again, disgusted by it all, her, the lies, the secrets, the death, the destruction. He was suddenly immensely grateful that this would be the last time, that he was leaving.

"So why tell us about this attack?" Ruth asked quietly.

"That's it, Ruth," she replied looking supercilious. "Back to the matter in hand. Your speciality, analysis, intelligence, but not so good with people."

Ruth maintained her composure with difficulty and her hands just itched to slap the woman before her for her arrogance. Only the satisfaction of knowing that they had lulled her into a false sense of security kept her from lashing out.

"I would like some water, please," Elena said.

Ruth held her gaze for a moment before replying, "Maybe later." Elena's eyes widened a little in surprise. "First tell us everything you know about this attack. Who ordered it?"

"The group who recruited me had grown over the years," Elena explained, "they're not just intelligence officers now. They are business people, politicians united by patriotism, nationalism you would call it. They believe Russia is becoming too weak. They could not allow the partnership between our countries; it humiliates Russia. I agree with them. I have first hand experience of western hypocrisy."

Harry studied her for a moment, realizing for the first time that perhaps Elena had loved him more that he had loved her and had been really hurt by what she saw as his betrayal. Then again, he reminded himself, she was a double agent. A better spy than he in the end, and if she could use him and Sasha in the way that she had, then her love was not worth much, and when compared to Ruth's love, it was worth nothing at all.

Elena continued, "They would rather open conflict than this deal. So, they launch an attack so destructive, that the partnership is irrelevant."

"You've killed people before, why the sudden attack of conscience?" Harry asked.

"I will not sacrifice innocent lives," she replied. "I'm not a terrorist. We all have a line we can't cross. Don't we, Harry?"

He studied her for a moment, searching her face for any clue that she was lying.

"I am at mine," she added.

Moments passed in silence as the two spies studied each other intently. Then Calum came to the door and relayed the information from Erin and Dimitri. Harry asked Calum to bring the lap top into the room to show Elena and she immediately recognised the man in the photo.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Pavel Zycov, former Spetsnaz. One of the most dedicated agents they have. Harry, they've been saving him for a suicide mission."

"We've got a file on Zycov," Calum informed them. "He was sighted at a café this morning in Moscow... at Domodedovo airport."

"Did he board a flight?" Ruth asked as Calum turned back to his computer.

"Elena," Harry murmured, "you know these people. What kind of attack will it be? Bomb? Hijack?"

"They want a spectacular, something that will ruin relations between us for years," she explained.

"He's on board Russian air flight 474 heading to Heathrow," Calum said. "Air traffic control states that they failed to respond to a routine status request... ten minutes ago."

Harry motioned with his eyes toward the door and the three spooks exited the room.

"She's not telling us everything," Ruth declared once they were outside.

"I know," Harry nodded. "I need to inform the Home Secretary. If this is a legitimate threat, we have about nine minutes before the plane is over British soil."

He turned away and pulled out his phone to call Towers.

"Harry," Towers anwered.

"Home Secretary," Harry replied briskly. "There is a Russian, ultra-nationalist terrorist on board flight 474 from Moscow in bound to Heathrow. According to our source, they plan to bring the plane down over London."

"God help us," Towers muttered. "I'll call the PM."

"There's no time," Harry replied. "The flight has failed to respond to a routine contact. The terrorist may already have control."

"What do you want me to do? Shoot down a passenger jet?"

"We have nine minutes before the plane is over the mainland after which shooting it down is no longer an option," Harry replied.

"Harry, you'd better be more certain of this that anything you've ever told me," Towers stated. "That plane is full of civilians."

"312, mostly Russians and Brits," Harry replied. "If the plane crashes in central London they'll be thousands more. We should scramble interceptors now so that we have the option to shoot it down, should their intentions be confirmed. I will call you back in eight minutes."

Harry ended the call and looked at Ruth. "Tell me," he invited.

"She was going to move here with Sasha," Ruth frowned. "She was going to use her son as an asset, to bring him up in the lie that you were his father, to let him grow up _British_. She put the interests of her country before those of her son, Harry... That makes her a fanatic."

"Yes," he agreed.

Ruth took her phone out of her pocket and called Erin, putting the call on speaker.

"Ruth," Erin answered.

"Are you still at the scene?" she asked.

"Yes. What is it?"

"I want to be sure we're seeing everything. Is there anything that's not right?"

"Dee, we're searching for things that aren't right," Erin said as she looked around once more. "Ruth, what are we looking for?"

"I just want to know why I feel like I'm in an audience," Ruth explained.

There was a short pause and then Erin said, "Zycov's picture. We were lucky to find it."

There were some noises in the background and then they heard Dimitri say, "Jammed, deliberately."

"Someone wanted us to find that photo," Erin confirmed.

"Thanks," Ruth replied and ended the call. Then she said to Harry, "She wants us to shoot down that plane."

Harry nodded. "Agreed. They want open conflict between Britain and Russia and it's far better for them if we start it." he confirmed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again and called the Home Secretary.

"Confirmation?" Towers asked.

"Our asset, Elena Gavrik, has been manipulating us," Harry replied. "There are no plans to bring a plane down."

"Christ, Harry. You've just told me we can't risk letting that aircraft reach the mainland. Interceptors are making contact in 60 seconds."

"They're trying to force us to do it for them," Harry explained. "We have to abort the strike."

"It's not that simple, Harry. The plane's in cloud cover, the fighters can't get a visual with the cockpit, and they're still not responding."

"Zykov, their man on board... interfering with communications. It's not a bomb, it's a jammer."

"That may well be, but we have a non-responsive aircraft in our air space. We can't let it get over London."

"The intel is good." He could feel the Home Secretary dithering, unable to make a choice one way or the other. "Home Secretary," he said firmly, "William, I will stake everything I have on this decision. My job, my reputation, my family, my freedom. _Do not_ shoot down that plane."

"Very well, Harry. On your head be it," Towers replied after a short pause and Harry heard him order the fighter jets to abort before he put down the phone.

As if on cue, Erin and Dimitri stepped into the room. "When the plane lands, have a team standing by to take Zycov," Harry told his section chief, who'd just received an update from Calum. "Ruth," he addressed his wife next, "I need you in here with me."

They moved toward the holding cell together, but before they could enter, Harry's phone rang. "Yes," he answered.

"Just a heads-up; we have Duran," Jim Coaver replied.

"Thank you," Harry smiled.

"Tell your wife I'm still waiting for her call," Jim answered. "She hasn't bailed on me, has she?"

"I'll remind her," Harry chuckled and hung up. Then he turned to Ruth and said, "_This_ is the fun part," before they entered the room.

"What happened?" Elena asked worriedly.

"You failed," Harry smiled, causing her to look momentarily alarmed. "I have a team standing by to arrest Pavel Zycov the moment the plane touches down at Heathrow, and with the information we will get from you and Veronica Duran, who I am told is now in Jim Coaver's custody, I'm sure it won't be long before the rest of your pernicious co-conspirators are behind bars."

Elena blanched, much to the satisfaction of both other occupants of the room. "How did you know?" she asked eventually.

"You overplayed your hand, Elena. You got careless," Harry replied. "The attempted hit on you by Veronica Duran was a little too perfectly orchestrated." He turned toward Ruth and smiled. "And even though I failed to see it immediately, I am blessed with a brilliant wife, who was able to put two and two together. I also found out three days ago that Sasha was not my son, thanks to DNA testing. I already knew you had lied to me and had been manipulating me for the last thirty years. The rest of the information came from you."

Elena seemed to deflate before their eyes and she suddenly looked old and frail, defeated.

"Under the new agreement we have with Russia," Harry continued, "we will be required to share the transcripts of this interrogation with the FSB, however, if you cooperate with us fully, Elena, I will make sure that the transcripts are edited before they reach Moscow."

Elena nodded mutely and stared at the wall in front of her, unseeing.

"You really would have let those people die?" Ruth asked quietly after a moment.

Elena was silent for a long time before she answered, "Yes."


	44. Chapter 44

**Some fluff as requested and another M rated chapter. Enjoy... S.C.**_  
_

_Next day, 15th December, 10 pm_

Harry walked through the pods, scanning the Grid quickly for his team. None of them were there and he was glad; they deserved an early night after the last couple of weeks. Only two or three junior officers were about and it looked like they were getting ready to head home too. He paused in his walk and looked around more carefully, realizing that tonight was the last night he would be here, the place where he'd spent most of the last seventeen years. His thoughts drifted back to events from the past, skipping from memory to memory of days and nights spent on the Grid, remembering the defeats but dwelling on the victories, and especially the moments spent with Ruth. He smiled as he recalled the nights when Ruth had kept him company, bent over her work at her station with her desk lamp on, illuminating her beautiful face. The covert and furtive looks they'd exchanged, each trying to watch the other without getting caught, and the quick glances away when their eyes inevitably met. Their increasingly frequent tea and coffee breaks that were taken, quite deliberately, at the same time, though neither would ever have admitted to that. He wished suddenly that just for tonight, Ruth could have been here to share one last look across the Grid, one last conversation as they made tea together. Tomorrow, he would hand over the reigns to Erin and they'd probably all go out for a drink to celebrate his retirement. This was his last night on the Grid.

He sighed and turned toward his office, opening the door and shrugging out of his coat before hanging in it up. His desk lamp was on, as he'd left it before he'd gone to see the Home Secretary, and in it's soft light, he began to walk across the room, aiming for his decanter in the corner. He didn't get very far, however, before the door behind him slid closed and he heard the lock click into place. He spun round to face the intruder, and he could have sworn that his heart stopped.

Ruth was standing before him, wearing nothing but the extra shirt he kept in his desk drawer for emergencies. He opened and closed his mouth twice as he struggled to find his voice while his eyes swept over her from head to toe and back, coming to a rest on her dark, sapphire blue eyes. She took a few steps forward, swaying her hips as she moved toward him and causing his eyes to almost pop out of his head and his breathing to become shallow. She paused in front of him and reached toward him, picking up his tie and sliding it slowly through her fingers.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head gently and pressed a finger to her lips. He understood and nodded once as he swallowed in an effort to moisten his suddenly dry mouth and throat. Then he watched as she lifted her other hand to his tie and began to tug gently against the fabric, pulling his upper body forward, toward her. He leant in and let his feet follow the motion of his torso until he was standing so close that their bodies were almost touching. He could feel her hot breath against his lips as he hovered before her, savouring the tension, the anticipation, the electricity crackling between them. Once they touched, he knew that they would ignite and combust. There would be no holding back tonight. He would be inside her within seconds and she would be ready for him.

Her fingers slipped up to his collar and began to unfasten his tie, sliding the thin silk fabric from around his neck and throwing it over the back of a chair. Next her hands moved down to his buckle, unfastening it slowly and pulling his belt free from his trousers before it joined his tie on the chair. All this she accomplished without touching his skin once, and he felt compelled to see if he could do the same as his hands reached up to unbutton the shirt she was wearing. Gently he pulled the fabric forward, away from her skin, as he began to release the buttons, beginning at the bottom and working his way up. He kept his gaze resolutely on his hands, not letting it stray to her beautiful, cream coloured skin until the last button was free and he released the fabric, letting it fall to the sides, revealing her beautiful form. She was wearing nothing. No bra, no knickers, just his shirt. Oh dear God, did she want to kill him?

His breathing was rugged now, coming in harsh pants and she smiled, pleased that she'd put so much thought into this, their last night together on the Grid. She watched as he took a step back and impatiently began to tug his own clothes off, rapidly unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and pulling it off over his head, followed by his vest, shoes, trousers and socks, until he was standing before her in just his underwear. She raised an eyebrow at him and he got the hint, pulling his boxers off as she pushed his shirt off her shoulders and it fell to the floor.

One, two, three seconds passed as they watched and waited, letting the tension build once more to unprecedented heights. She parted her lips and let the tip of her tongue slide out and moisten her dry lips as she dropped her gaze to his hardened length. It was too much for Harry. He moved forward suddenly, his hand gripping her waist and lifting her up off the floor, his lips colliding with hers as she clung to his shoulders, his legs propelling her backward until he slammed her into the wall, pinning her against it as her legs wrapped around his waist and he pushed into her slick heat, hard and fast. She moaned into his mouth as he pressed into her again and again, and she slid her hands through his hair, across his shoulders, her lips pressing fiery kisses to his neck before her tongue slid into his ear, making him groan.

He wanted to see her, to touch and kiss her breasts, so he pulled away from the wall and staggered over to his desk, noting with satisfaction that Ruth had already cleared it of everything but his computer monitor. It was the perfect height, he thought with pleasure as he lowered her onto its surface and pulled back to look at her. She was magnificent, he decided as he traced her beautiful body with his eyes. He leant over her, taking one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking on it hard, causing her to arch her back toward him and moan, her hands slipping into his hair and pulling him down toward her. He licked, sucked and squeezed her breasts and nipples, stilling the motion of his pelvis and delighting in the feel of her clenching and unclenching her inner muscles around his length.

Next, he contracted his pelvic floor muscles and heard her gasp of pleasure as his penis jerked inside her. Lifting his head to see her face, he did it again delighting in the sharp sounds that escaped her throat every time. Slowly he pulled all the way out of her, pausing at her entrance for a moment before sliding back in, filling her to the hilt and making them both groan. It felt so good that he did it again and again. She unfolded her legs, bringing them up to rest against his chest, her feet over his shoulders, and he slid his hands to her thighs as he increased the tempo until he was fucking her hard with complete abandon. Their breaths were coming in harsh pants now and they held each other's gazes, not wanting to miss any part of this, the fantasy they'd both had for so long. They were screwing on Harry's desk in Harry's office inside Thames House. Just the thought was enough to almost send him over the edge.

He released her legs and pulled out of her, making her whimper slightly in protest. He smiled and pulled her up onto her feet, before using his hands to gently guide her to turn around and lean over the desk. She understood what he wanted and lay down, supporting her weight on her elbows as she presented herself to him. He took the time to caress her skin, running his fingers all along her back and over her buttocks before he slid inside her again, causing them both to groan more loudly than they probably should. The Grid had been empty when they'd started this, but it was very likely that someone might come back at any moment and hear them. However, this was by far their favourite position and they found they were unable to control their initial reaction when they came together. Harry wasn't sure if it was some male domination thing, but he loved to fuck her like this and it seemed to stimulate her more, brushing against more sensitive areas inside her.

Slowly he pulled all the way out before pressing back in, repeating the motion over and over again as he steadily increased the pace. He watched as the tell tale flush spread across her skin, across her shoulders and back, and he knew that she was almost there. He leant over her more, wrapping his arms around hers, pressing his belly to her back, and changing the angle of his thrusts, and she broke almost immediately, pressing her mouth against his arm to muffle the cry of her release. He slowed his tempo to delay his own orgasm, wanting this experience to last, wanting her to come again. Then nibbling on the back of her neck for a moment, he stopped moving all together, remaining completely still and delighting in the feel of her squeezing him tightly inside her.

He didn't pause for long before he resumed his motion, sliding in and out of her in every increasing speed until he felt her come again, her muscles rippling around him as she bit down on her arm to stop herself from crying out at the intensity of her orgasm. This time he let himself go, leaning over her and pressing his face into her neck as he groaned his release and she felt him thrust into her hard, accepting his warm seed deep inside her.

Minutes passed and their breathing and heart rates slowed as they remained spooned together, Ruth lying on the desk with Harry on top of her holding his weight on his forearms, his face pressed into her neck. They fit perfectly together like this, she thought happily as she rested her forehead on her folded arms. Their heights were perfectly suited to spooning together, she in front of him with her back against his belly and his penis inside her. They were still coupled but any slight movement would almost certainly cause him to slide out. So they didn't move, they didn't speak, they didn't need to.

She smelled so good... of Ruth, and love, and sex, and of him. It was his favourite smell in the world; their scents mingled together on her skin. He pressed a kiss to her neck and felt her smile as she hummed softly in satisfaction. She lifted her head and he took the hint, pulling slowly away from her and feeling the cool air slip between them, making him suddenly feel cold. He stood up and helped her do the same, turning her to face him, pulling her into his embrace, and kissing the top of her head. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his damp skin rest against hers and the last of his semen slip down between her legs. She used to hate that feeling, she thought absently, but not any more. It was simply wonderful to have part of Harry inside her; Harry was different to all the rest of them. Harry was hers and she was his, body and soul. He was special and his semen a gift of love for her.

There was silence all around them. The Grid was empty. He pulled back a little to look at her, smiling softly down at her as she looked up into his eyes. She shivered a little and he frowned in concern, releasing her and looking around for her clothes. He didn't find them, however, so he picked up his shirt that she'd been wearing earlier and draped it around her shoulders. She raised her eyebrows at him and he smiled. She couldn't really go past security dressed like that. He opened his mouth to speak, but again she shook her head and pressed her finger to his lips. He nodded and leant forward pressing a kiss against her lips before releasing her. She smiled and moved round his desk, pulling back his office chair and retrieving her clothes from the seat. She winked at him, making him smile once more before he bent over to pick up his own clothes from the floor and they began to get dressed.

They didn't speak until they arrived home. They walked up the front walk side by side and paused in front of the door while Harry pulled out his keys and moved to to unlock it. He paused in the act and turned back toward Ruth, smiling softly as she reached his gloved hand up to touch her face.

"I love you," he murmured, wanting to express what he was feeling now before they entered the house and Fiona or Jamie or Graham spoilt the moment.

"I love you more," she whispered back.

"Thank you," he smiled and leant down to press a kiss to her lips.

"It was better than any of my fantasies, Harry," she replied, "and the best sex I've ever had. Thank _you_."

"It's my pleasure, Ruth," he murmured huskily. "I look forward to making it even better next time."

"Oh, no," she teased. "Next time is my turn to make it the best _you've_ ever had."

"Every time is the best, Ruth," he replied seriously. "Every time with you is better than the last."

She sighed and pulled his head down for a deep, satisfying snog. "You are such a romantic man, Harry," she murmured when they pulled apart. "I've definitely hit the jack-pot... Now, can we go inside? Because as romantic as this is, I'm freezing my tits off here."

He laughed, a deep, warm sound that she didn't hear very often and she secretly vowed to make him laugh more often. Tomorrow was their last day at the Grid, Elena Gavrik was safely on her way back to Moscow in FSB custody along with a partial transcript of her interrogation at the bunker, and Ilia and Sasha Gavrik were flying back with Elena. Unbeknown to Harry, Ruth had provided the full recording of Elena's interrogation to Ilia after he had asked her for it, assuring her that it was for his personal use and would be destroyed before anyone else could hear it. She felt that he deserved to know the whole truth, knowing that he, like Harry, had managed to salvage something of himself and attempt to do some good to make amends for all the death and destruction he'd caused during the cold war. So now that the Gavriks were out of the picture and Harry would retire for good, there would be time to laugh. As Harry opened the door and they entered the house, she wondered if Harry was ticklish. Surprised that she hadn't thought of it before, she decided to find out and soon.


	45. Chapter 45

__**Sorry for the delay. I'm still on holiday and finding it hard to find the opportunity to write. S.C.  
**

* * *

_Next day, 16th December, 6 am_

"Morning, Dad," Graham smiled as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Son," Harry replied, turning to look at him. "Sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Coffee?"

"Please," he answered as he moved further into the room. "Do you have any coco pops?"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and smiled. "I have absolutely no idea," he confessed. "Try the cupboard down there."

Graham turned to look in the cabinet he indicated, one he'd never opened before, and called out triumphantly, "You do!"

"You'd better check the expiry date," Harry replied dryly. "For all I know, they might have been here since the last time you stayed in my house overnight, sometime during the last ice age."

"Come off it, Dad," Graham grinned. "I'm not _that_ old."

Harry's lips curled up into a smile as he replied, "And I suppose I am?"

"Well..." Graham chuckled, "perhaps not. The middle ages is probably more like it, _Sir Harry."_

"Christ! Not you too," Harry sighed and turned back to pouring the coffee into mugs. "The bloody thing is more trouble than it's worth."

"Oh, it's worth something?" Graham teased as he paused in the act of pouring his coco pops into a bowl, having ascertained that they were, in fact, well within their sell by date, "I'd never have pegged you as someone who'd give much value to titles, Dad."

Harry turned to look at him, raising one eyebrow at him and pursing his lips together before he murmured carefully, "I'm not, but... in certain situations with certain people, it can be useful."

"Like getting women into bed?" Graham asked without thinking. It took a second for them both to realize what had just been said. Graham blushed profusely and lowered his eyes as he cleared his throat and murmured, "I'm sorry, Dad. That was out of line. I didn't mean to imply anything by it. I know you and Ruth are very hap-"

"Think nothing of it," Harry interrupted as he turned to put the kettle on for Ruth's tea. "I dare say I deserved that for what I put you, your sister and your mother through before." He turned to face Graham once more and added, "I truly am sorry, Graham... for all of it."

Graham was silent for a moment before he replied, "Apology accepted, Dad... I have come to realize, over the past few weeks, that I have, very unfairly, been blaming you for almost everything that has gone wrong in my life and taking very little responsibility for my own poor choices and actions... And I have also come to recognise that, though you would never win any 'Father of the Year' awards, you did try to do right by me and Catherine, and that we, Mum, Catherine and I, are partly responsible for pushing you away and making it almost impossible for you to stay close once you and Mum split up. I don't blame you for giving up on us any more. I may wish that you hadn't, but I can't blame you for it. As for the rest, it's really none of my business. It's between you and Mum... When I see you with Ruth, I realize that you and Mum didn't have what it takes to make things work, to stay together... I'm glad you're happy, Dad... and a little jealous of Fiona for having parents who love each other to bits." He smiled and added, "Thank you for giving me the chance to get to know you and your family, Dad, and for being so ready to forgive my appalling behaviour toward you, and especially, for keeping Jamie away from you. I regret that now, more than you could possibly imagine."

Harry had tears in his eyes by the end of Graham's speech. He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat, turning to pour the water into Ruth's mug before saying, "You're part of my family too, Graham... you and Jamie. You're always welcome here at any time, and you can count on me and Ruth to help you in any way we can."

Ruth had been standing outside the door to the kitchen, listening to their conversation with a mixture of joy and relief, grateful that Harry and Graham seemed to have come to some resolution about their past, and that they were both ready to let bygones be bygones and move forward. After she'd come downstairs and paused to pick up the mail, she'd overheard Graham's speech, and not wanting to interrupt it, she'd waited in the hall until she'd judged their tête-à-tête to be over. Then she stepped into the room and wished them both good morning, smiling at Graham and approaching Harry to kiss his cheek. "Thank you," she smiled as she took her tea from his hand and took a sip. "I see you've discovered the coco pops," she said to Graham.

He nodded and picked up his bowl and mug, taking them over to the table as he said, "Yes, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Ruth replied. "I used to eat them for breakfast every morning until I discovered that the chocolate bothered Fiona." She sighed.

"Hard luck," Graham said sympathetically. "Perhaps she'll out grow it."

"I hope she either does so soon or not at all," Ruth smiled. "If I can't enjoy chocolate while she'd nursing, then I certainly don't want to have to share it with her once she's weaned."

Harry and Graham laughed and the latter asked, "What about Dad? Don't you have to share with him?"

Harry shook his head. "I've never really liked chocolate. Cake and biscuits now, I love, but not chocolate."

"Maybe that's where Jamie gets his aversion to chocolate from," Graham said thoughtfully before pouring milk on his cereal and beginning to eat.

Ruth didn't miss the smile on Harry's lips as he turned back to buttering their toast.

"So what are your plans now that you'll be out of a job again tomorrow, Graham?" she asked as she sat down opposite him with her tea.

Harry brought her toast to the table and then returned with his own plate and mug before taking a seat as Graham replied, "I was thinking of taking some time off. Jamie's usual childminder has no place for him at the moment, and as we'll be moving out of London soon, I thought I might take some time to do a little house hunting in Ipswich. I have enough to tide us over until I begin work in January, thanks to you."

"Oh, you've earned every bit of it. I can't tell you how grateful I've been to not have to worry about Fiona over the last two weeks. On top of everything else that's been going on, if we hadn't had you to take care of her, I think I'd have gone off my rocker." Harry reached over and squeezed her hand, and she turned to him and gave him a soft smile before looking back at Graham and adding, "If you need any free time, we'd be very happy to watch Jamie for you, Graham."

"Thank you, Ruth," he replied, "but I wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense," Ruth objected. "What are grandparents for? We'd absolutely _love_ to have him, wouldn't we, Harry?"

"Indeed," Harry nodded. "I'd like to have the chance to spend more than a few minutes with him, Graham. You'd be doing us a favour. Call it an early Christmas present."

"Speaking of Christmas," Ruth added, "we'd like to have a Christmas celebration here with you, Jamie, Catherine and Richard. Do you have any free time on Christmas day or Boxing day?"

"Well," Graham replied, "Mum usually has Christmas lunch at her house, but we could come for Christmas tea or dinner."

"Okay," Ruth nodded. "Shall we say four o'clock on Christmas day?"

Graham nodded. "We'll be here."

"And there's no need for presents," Ruth added. "Just having you and Jamie here will be enough."

Graham smiled. "I'll bring the drinks then," he offered.

"No, really," Ruth insisted. "You'll bring yourself and Jamie, and that's all."

"But, Ruth-" Graham began to object but was interrupted by Harry.

"But nothing, Son," he frowned. "Do you have any idea how much joy it will bring me to have my son and grandson with me for Christmas? I don't even remember the last time I spent Christmas with you, Graham."

He smiled and nodded, "Me too, Dad, me too."

"Good, that's settled then," Ruth smiled and began to eat her breakfast, knowing that she didn't have a lot of time before her daughter needed her milk. She'd just managed to take her last mouthful of toast before Fiona woke up and she had to go upstairs.

Harry got up to wash the dishes and Graham offered to help dry and put away. Half way through their task, however, Jamie called from the top of the stairs and Graham had to go get him. Ruth had already installed a gate at each end of the staircase, so Jamie couldn't get down without help.

Stepping over the gate with his long legs, Graham bounded up the stairs to his son. "Good morning, Jamie," he smiled. "How did you get out of bed?"

"Ooff," Jamie replied and lifted his hands toward him. "Up, Dada, up."

"Up you come then," Graham smiled and lifted him into his arms. Jamie slid his little hands round his neck and hugged him tightly. He was such an affectionate little fellow. "Let's go say good morning to Grandpa."

"Ganpa," Jamie grinned and laughed loudly as Graham ran down the stairs, jiggling Jamie as he moved.

Once over the gate at the bottom, Graham put Jamie down and the little boy toddled toward the kitchen calling out, "Ganpa," as he went.

Harry put down the tea towel he was holding and turned toward the sound, smiling. "Good morning, Jamie," he said as he crouched down and waited for him to approach. "Did you sleep well?"

"Es," Jamie replied solemnly, just like he'd seen his father do. Then he grinned and stretched up his arms. "Up, Ganpa, up."

"Come on then," Harry smiled and picked him up, straightening his legs with some difficulty and then swinging his grandson up high. "Goodness you're heavy, Jamie. You must have grown last night." Jamie laughed and Harry continued, "You know, Daddy used to love going up too, Jamie. His favourite place in the whole world was on my shoulders when he was your age."

"Up," Jamie repeated.

"All right. Let's get you up then," Harry smiled and moved him carefully onto his shoulders, gripping his little feet securely with his hands when he was settled. "Now you're taller than Daddy," he smiled.

"Dada, up!" Jamie exclaimed.

"I see you, Jamie," Graham smiled, putting the knife he was using to cut the toast down and turning to look at him. "You're high up."

Just then Ruth walked into the kitchen carrying Fiona. She smiled at Jamie and said, "Look at you! You're so high up, Jamie."

"Ona up?" Jamie asked.

"Not yet, Jamie," Ruth smiled. "She's too little. In a little while, she'll go up too."

"Yeah," Graham grinned, "and then you'll have to share Grandpa's shoulders. Enjoy it while it lasts, Jamie."

Harry laughed and murmured, "You'll have to help out then, Graham."

"I'd be happy to," he smiled as he put Jamie's breakfast on the table, "if they let me. Jamie already prefers your shoulders to mine. Every time I put him on my shoulders he asks for Ganpa."

"It's probably the extra padding," Ruth smiled. "Your father does have broader shoulders, Graham. Yours are probably just too bony."

"Yeah," Graham sighed, "it's that or the lack of hair to tickle his face."

"You can say what you like," Harry replied with a shrug and then added smugly, "I'm just happy he likes to sit on my shoulders."

Ruth smiled and then said reluctantly, "We should get going, Harry."

"You're right," Harry sighed as he glanced at the clock. "Come on, Jamie. Down you come. Let's see what Daddy's made for breakfast."

"Here," Graham said and stepped behind Harry, reaching for his son and pulling him gently off his grandfather. "Come on, Jamie. It's solders today."

"Odjers!" Jamie exclaimed and sat happily in the high chair where his father placed him.

Ruth slid Fiona in her sling, sat down next to Jamie, and began to help him eat, saying, "You two get ready while I help Jamie."

"Thanks, Ruth," Graham said and darted up the stairs to have a quick shower and shave before he took over his babysitting duties.

Harry followed him up slowly, going into the bathroom to shave and brush his teeth. He came back downstairs first and walked back into the kitchen. Ruth was still sitting by Jamie, who'd lost interest in his food, and she was trying to cajole him to eat some more by pretending that the spoon was a train that needed to go into the tunnel, Jamie's mouth. Harry smiled as he watched from the doorway for a few moments. Then noticing that Fiona was no longer content sitting in her sling, he stepped into the room and took his daughter into his arms, placing her with her back against his chest and jiggling her around, humming to her softly as she watched her nephew eat his food.

"Ona eat," Jamie said and refused to open his mouth again.

"Fiona is too little," Ruth replied patiently. "She just drinks milk."

"Ona eat," Jamie insisted.

"She has no teeth," Harry said. "Do you have teeth, Jamie?"

"Es," he said and opened his mouth wide.

"Goodness, what a lot!" Harry exclaimed. "They must be very good for eating. Show Grandpa how you eat your egg." Jamie obliged by taking another mouthful of egg and chewing on it happily. "Look, Fiona," Harry murmured. "Look how Jamie can eat all his food with his shiny, white teeth."

By the time Graham came downstairs, Jamie had finished his breakfast and was playing happily with Ruth, Harry and Fiona in the sitting room. He paused in the doorway to watch, contemplating how much happier they all seemed. He could see the change in his son very clearly, seeing as he knew him so well, but even Fiona, Ruth, and most of all, his father looked happier than they did on the first day he'd arrived here. Being together was healing everyone, even himself, he had to acknowledge, and he vowed not to let circumstances get in the way again and pull them apart. He would make time to come and see his father, Ruth, his mother and sisters. He needed his extended family and so did his son; Jamie was thriving on the extra love and attention.


	46. Chapter 46

**Just a couple more chapters on this I think and an epilogue. I'm trying to finish up all my fics as I realize I'm terrible at doing that (it's one of my New Year's resolutions). Thanks for your reviews and encouragement. S.C.**

* * *

_Same day, 16th December, 11 am_

"Harry," Ruth said worriedly as she walked into his office without knocking.

He looked up from his screen and murmured, "Yes?"

Ruth paused in front of his desk and looked at him uncertainly for a moment before saying quietly, "Elena Gavrik was found dead this morning in her holding cell."

Harry looked momentarily saddened by this news, before he regained his composure and asked, "Do we know what happened?"

"It looks like a suicide," Ruth replied.

"But?" he asked gently, seeing the anxiety in her eyes. She brought her hand up to her face for a moment as she lowered her gaze, and it caused Harry to get up and move round his desk in concern, coming to a stop beside her. Gently he reached out his hand to touch her elbow and asked, "What is it, Ruth?"

"I think it was Ilia," she whispered. "He was the last person to visit her and... I gave him the full interrogation recordings."

Harry was momentarily stunned by this revelation, but he recovered quickly and replied, "Ruth, it was only a matter of time before the FSB extracted the same information from her that we did. It's not your fault. If Ilia did indeed kill her, or persuade her to take her own life, it's not your fault. He was a ruthless bastard in the old days, and given the depth of her betrayal, it was hardly something he would have let slide. I'm not sure I would have been able to either, had our roles been reversed." He sighed and watched Ruth nod, before he reached for her and pulled her into his embrace. "None of this whole sorry mess is your fault, Ruth. It's my doing, not yours, mine and the Gavrik's. And I can't help but be grateful that I had you to show me what was really going on, or it might have been me lying dead right now, instead of Elena."

Ruth nodded into his shoulder and pulled him tightly against her as the guilt she'd felt a moment ago subsided a little to be replaced by relief that she still had Harry. He was right. Of the three of them, Elena Gavrik was the one that deserved to die the most. Harry and Ilia had been cold, calculating, ruthless bastards when required, but they had never been double agents and never committed an act of terrorism. "I love you," she murmured against his chest.

"I love you more," he replied.

She smiled, squeezed him once more and stepped back; they were at work after all. "I'd better get back to work."

He nodded and replied, "Erin and I have to see the Home Secretary." He paused for a moment and then added, "At least, if Ilia Gavrik is behind this, Ruth, we can be certain that he will take care of Michail Levrov and the rest of his co-conspirators as well."

* * *

_Same day, 16th December, 10 pm_

"Good evening, Sir Harry," Mike smiled as he held the door for his boss.

"Good evening, Mike," Harry replied. "Looks like this time it really is the last time you'll be driving me."

"Absolutely," Ruth said firmly. "No more reinstatements for you, Sir Harry. This time your retirement is permanent."

Harry and Mike chuckled and the latter said, "You can't argue with the missus, Sir."

"Not when she's in that mood, no," Harry conceded.

Ruth glared at him and Mike hastened to change the subject by saying, "Good evening, Lady P-"

"Ruth, Mike, just Ruth," she sighed in exasperation as she turned her eyes on him.

"Good evening, Ms Ruth," Mike murmured with a smile.

"Good evening, Mike," she replied. "How are you? How's the family? Is little Anabel walking yet?"

"Aye, she is, Miss," Mike smiled. "Her brother is right upset about that. She can reach all his things now you see."

Ruth laughed and handed him a gift bag saying, "Sir Harry and I got them both a little something and there's something in there for you and Margaret too."

"Thank you, Ms Ruth, Sir Harry," Mike beamed. "You didn't have to do that."

Ruth just smiled and got in the car and was closely followed by Harry. Mike closed the door and got in the driver's seat, placing the bag on the seat next to him before starting the engine and pulling out into the traffic. He was going to miss Sir Harry and Lady Pearce, he thought sadly, but he was happy that they were married now and had a family. He knew better than most how much they meant to each other and how long it had taken them to come together, and he firmly believed that they deserved every bit of the happiness they were now enjoying.

Ruth and Harry sat quietly in the back of the car lost in thought as they drove away from the George toward home. It had been hard to say goodbye to all their friends today even though they knew it was the right thing to do. Ruth's decommissioning papers were the last thing Harry had signed today, his last act as Section Head. Erin had taken over and he was pleased about that. She was a good officer, one of the brightest and the best. Calum would be the new Section Chief and they would probably be looking for a new field agent to help him and Dimitri. They had also discussed the possibility of recruiting another technical officer to help Tariq, and of course, there was the new analyst who'd been called in to temporarily fill in Ruth's role while she was on maternity leave. Erin was happy with his performance and indicated that she'd keep him on permanently now that Ruth was leaving for good.

Ruth looked over at her husband and slid her hand over his, causing his fingers to lace themselves through hers as he turned to look at her. "Towers offered me a job," she said.

He blinked in surprise and asked, "When? As what?"

"About ten days ago," she confessed. "I didn't have a chance to think about it much since then or tell you about it. I would be his security advisor and would be liaising with the security services on a daily basis. My salary would be much better and the hours would be good. The work itself sounds interesting. I think I'd enjoy it and I'd be able to see the team on a daily basis. The one thing I'm not sure about is that I was hoping we could move out of London now. Somewhere on the coast, somewhere beautiful and quiet, but I suppose I could commute. What do you think?"

"I think you should take it," he replied without hesitation. "The commute will be manageable if we look for a place not too far from a train line. In any case, we can't move to the middle of nowhere with Fiona. She'll hate it, especially when she's a teenager. It's perfect for you, Ruth. You were made for more than clerical work, or being a librarian. And if you take the job, I'll be able to sleep easy in my bed, knowing that you have the Home Secretary's ear and Erin is hunting down the bad guys."

"Bad buys?" she smiled.

"Yes," he shrugged. "I thought I'd improve the range of my vocabulary in preparation for being the parent of a teenager again."

She chuckled. "All right. I'll ring William on Monday."

"William?" he asked as he raised his eyebrows at her.

"He asked me to call him William, so I'm practising," she shrugged. "I'd still like to wait until Fiona is six months old before I start if he'll let me. I don't want to miss out on that, or on having you all to myself again for a little while longer."

"That's good," he smiled and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and turning it over to press another one against the inside of her wrist.


	47. Chapter 47

**My apologies for taking so long to update this story. I forgot that after the summer vacation school begins and life is incredibly busy. I hope that things have settled enough for me to be able to finish up this fic in the next couple of weeks. Hope you're still enjoying it and that you'll appreciate the Christmas fluff and smut that follows, even if it is March already. One more chapter and an epilogue to come, I think. This chapter is definitely M rated... S.C.  
**

* * *

_Ten days later, 25th December, 8 am_

"Mmmmm," she hummed when she came round to the feel of his lips on the back of her neck and his body pressed against her back.

"Happy Christmas, Ruth," he whispered in her ear and continued to caress her gently with his lips, sliding his hand round her waist and under her pyjama top to stroke the soft skin of her stomach.

"After an early Christmas present, are you?" she answered after a moment in a sleepy voice as she rolled over toward him, coming to rest on her back and opening her eyes to look at him.

He chuckled and raised himself on one elbow, his eyes radiating love and desire as he gazed at her and replied, "Actually, Ruth, I'm more interested in _giving you_ an early Christmas present." His hand slid over her stomach and further up as he dipped his head forward and captured her lips in a soft, sensual kiss. He found her breast, cupping it gently and caressing it with his fingertips as he continued to kiss her, brushing his tongue against hers, sucking gently on her top lip, and nibbling on the bottom one. He was so good at this, caressing, exciting, pleasuring, and before long, almost without realizing how, she was completely naked in his arms and groaning in pleasure.

She was still not quite fully awake and all sensations were somehow splendidly magnified. "Harry," she breathed as his fingers brushed over her sensitive mound, sending shivers down her spine and lightning bolts through her core. Feeling his lips press against her own again, she wrapped her arms around him, sliding her fingers through his hair and pulling him close as his tongue entered her mouth and brushed firmly against hers, while he pressed two fingers into her wet heat and rubbed his thumb against her clit. Her legs fell apart and she tilted her pelvis toward his questing fingers, feeling the threads of desire coil tighter and tighter inside her.

God, she was so sexy like this, aroused and half asleep with all her inhibitions completely gone. He knew that she adored making love early in the morning before she was fully awake. She'd mentioned it recently, the day after he'd retired, when he'd been unable to stop himself from waking her.

He usually woke first, and this time had been no different. He'd been awake for half an hour or so, contemplating his retirement and what it meant for him, what changes he wanted to make in his life and in himself. He'd made a conscious decision to let go of the tight reign he'd kept on his reactions, his emotions, his thoughts, to let go of most of his formidable self-control. He knew that he would never let himself revert back to the impulsive behaviour of his youth; he didn't want that, but he no longer needed or wished to be always holding back either.

A good balance is what he needed, he'd been thinking as Ruth had shifted in her sleep next to him and drawn his attention back to her. She'd been so beautiful in the early morning light that filtered through the curtains, and his mind had been instantly flooded by erotic images, dwelling on what it felt like to kiss her and love her all over, to loose himself inside her. Desire, swift and potent, had pulsed through him, and he'd suddenly realized that there had been so many mornings in the last few months when he'd woken up wanting her, but every time he'd held back, his self-control and self-denial kicking in to deny him what he craved. He'd never let himself act on his desire until she'd been wide awake and able to give him clear signals that she wanted him also.

In fact, he'd realized that he almost never initiated sex with Ruth. He took charge very quickly after she'd made her desire for him known, but not before she'd taken the first step, and he'd suddenly recognised how damaging this habit of self-control could become now that he didn't need it to survive any more. So resolving to change it, he'd woken her with soft kisses and gentle touches, and to his delight, she'd loved it, telling him afterwards that he could wake her like that every morning for the rest of her life if he wanted to. He smiled at the recollection as he whispered her name and sucked on her earlobe, curling his fingers inside her and eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

"God, you're so sexy, Ruth," he growled. "I have to taste you."

He slid down her body, sucking and licking her skin as he moved to nestle himself between her legs, pulling his fingers out of her momentarily as he blew softly against her. Her lips parted, releasing a soft moan of pleasure that turned into a deep groan when he firmly, but ever so slowly, ran his tongue over the entire length of her folds in one long stroke.

This was heaven, she thought dimly as her sluggish brain finally began to wake up thanks to the desire coursing through her body, and she was suddenly incredibly impatient. She wanted him, all of him, right now; it was always so much better with him inside her. "Harry, please," she begged and tried to pull him up, but he couldn't or wouldn't understand or oblige, and the next moment, she found herself having to bite her lower lip to stop herself from crying out as she felt his fingers slide back inside her and his mouth suck on her clit.

"Oh, dear God!" she moaned, bucking beneath him and gripping the sheets with her hands. "Harry!"

He loved that he could do this to her and delighted in being in complete control of her pleasure. He brought her to the brink again and again before backing off, moving his caresses to her thighs or her breasts before going down on her again. When he pulled back for the third time, she groaned in frustration and almost growled, "You are the most dreadful tease, Harry Pearce, and if you're not careful, you're going to pay for this."

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief and he pulled himself up, moving over her on all fours to look down at her, and unable to resist the temptation, he took the bait and asked with a mischievous grin, "And how exactly is that going to happen, Ruth?"

Her eyes were blazing with desire as she reached her hands up to his chest, and using all the strength she could muster, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him quickly, taking him by surprise at the swiftness of her movements.

"You're eager," he murmured huskily.

"You've got a nerve," she replied and then leaning down over him, she whispered in his ear, "Now it's time for _your_ Christmas present, Harry. Take your clothes off." He hesitated, momentarily thrown by her abrupt, commanding tone. "Now, Harry," she added as she slid off him and got out of bed, walking toward the dresser and pulling out his favourite, golden tie from the top drawer. She tied it around her neck and turned around, glancing toward the bassinet and frowning when she found it empty.

"I put her in her crib after she woke up earlier," he explained as he pulled off his clothes. "I didn't want her to interfere with our... private Christmas celebration."

She smiled, and taking another tie from the drawer, she walked slowly toward him, swaying her hips from side to side and sliding the tie she was holding across her skin, stroking her breasts, hips, and bottom with it as she moved forward until she reached the edge of the bed. He was sitting up, his mouth gaping open as he watched her through lust filled eyes. She'd never had the confidence to move in such a seductive way before, not without clothes on, but to her surprise, she didn't feel uncomfortable under his gaze, and reaching forward slowly, she pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed.

Once he was horizontal, she pulled back to look at him, trailing the end of the royal blue tie she was holding over his body and letting her eyes follow its progress appreciatively. "God, Harry, you're so gorgeous," she murmured quietly, "and so very large." His breathing quickened at her words, and he gasped when she placed her hand over his balls, cupping them gently before sliding it up along his erection as she added, "Huge in fact." He groaned at her words and tough, and she raised her eyes to his, saying, "Close your eyes."

Again he hesitated before doing as she asked. He was finding that having her take control like this was really quite stimulating, and though he had to fight against his natural tendency to refuse to submit and take orders from anyone, he was intrigued enough by the change in her demeanour to go along with it for now.

Felling a little cold without the covers, she pulled the duvet over his lower half and got in bed next to him, kneeling beside him and pulling the covers over her shoulders. She used her hands and fingertips to stoke his chest and shoulders, his face and hair. Her lips joined in the exploration of his upper body, and she felt him slowly relax a little under her touch, his breathing becoming deeper and evening out as he enjoyed her caresses. Then sitting up and lifting his left hand to her face, she licked and sucked on his fingers, working her way down his arms as she surreptitiously tied one end of Harry's blue tie round his wrist.

"Don't move," she murmured as she pushed both his arms over his head, holding them down against the pillows as she straddled his waist and lowered her chest toward his face. Harry immediately began to kiss and lick her breasts and nipples, distracting her momentarily. She recovered quickly, however, and rapidly threading the tie through the railings of the headboard, she wrapped the other end round his right wrist and quickly tied it off. It wasn't easy as Harry became aware of what she was doing when he felt the tug against his left wrist and the material of his tie wrapping around his right wrist. "Ruth?" he uttered uncertainly, opening his eyes and beginning to struggle, however, his physical strength was not a sufficient advantage in his current position with Ruth sitting across his waist and leaning over him, and with his arms stretched out over his head while his left arm was already immobilised. So Ruth managed to secure this right wrist without too much difficulty.

Feeling very pleased with herself, Ruth got off him, moving back to his side and smiling triumphantly.

Harry flexed his arm muscles, trying to pull his hands free as he narrowed his eyes at her and turned his head to look up at her handiwork. His hands were tied at the wrists to the headboard in such a way that he couldn't bring them near each other to undo the knots. "What the hell, Ruth!" he exclaimed and turned his head to look at her.

"I did try to warn you, Harry. You shouldn't tease so."

"Untie me this instant, woman," he growled.

"No, I don't think so, Harry," she replied mischievously. "I haven't finished with you yet. First, I'm going to enjoy touching you... licking you... and sucking you..." His breathing became shallower again in spite of his attempts to control it. "Would you like me to do that, Harry?" she asked sweetly as her hands slid down his chest to his belly.

"Yes," he said in a hoarse whisper as he felt her fingertips move lower, skirting around his erection at the last minute and sliding over his inner thighs.

She smiled again and moved further down the bed, pushing his legs apart and kneeling down between them. She leant over him and blew softly across his balls before looking up at him and asking, "Yes, what?"

It look him a moment to figure out what she was talking about as his lust filled mind was a little slow on the uptake. "Please," he murmured, "yes, please."

"You know I'd love to, Harry," she replied in a throaty voice. "I absolutely adore sucking your cock."

He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat at that, his surprise at Ruth talking dirty to him having been swiftly eclipsed by how much it turned him on, before it became a groan as her tongue slid against him, slowly moving from his balls all the way up his shaft and swirling around the tip of his erection. This was definitely the best sex he'd ever had and it wasn't even over yet, he thought dimly a little while later as she continued to pleasure him with her hands and mouth, bringing him to the brink before pulling back, teasing him mercilessly as he had done to her earlier.

She sat up for a moment and lifted her eyes to his face watching him as he groaned in frustration and growled, "Fuck, Ruth. I can't take any more of this. Untie me this instant!"

"I love it when you get angry and all Alpha male on me, Harry," she smiled and worked her way up his body, straddling him and rubbing her wet folds against his hardened length.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed again and strained against the tie that held him imprisoned.

"Oh, I will, Harry," she promised in a low seductive voice, guiding him to her wet heat and sliding down onto him slowly, deliberately, gradually letting him stretch her until she was completely full of him. She paused, savouring the feel of his hardness fitting snugly, perfectly inside her, her eyes drifting shut and her lips parting in a soft, "oh," of pleasure. It never ceased to amaze her how solid he was when aroused, especially since, in the past, she'd had lovers younger than Harry who'd had difficulty remaining hard throughout their love making. "I love you," she murmured as she lent down to kiss his soft, sexy lips.

"Untie me, please," he begged when they broke apart for air. "I want to touch you."

"Mmmm," she hummed. "What else do you want to do to me, Harry? Tell me."

"I want to pin you against the mattress while I fuck you hard. I want to give you an earth shattering orgasm, and then do it again and again until you beg me to stop," he growled. "And when you've had enough, I want to empty myself deep inside you... because I love to come inside you, Ruth. It's my favourite place to be. The safest, softest, most beautiful place in the world and it's mine, all mine."

The possessiveness and desire in his eyes was palpable, but as she looked into them, she could also see the love he felt for her burning in their depths. It was remarkable to be loved so deeply by another, and it never failed to move her and make her feel so very grateful. "Yes, Harry. Yours, always yours. I love you," she whispered. Then reaching up, she undid the knots tying him to the bed.

The moment his hands were free, he slid them into her soft, silky hair and pulled her head down toward him, planting passionate, almost brutal kisses against her lips, along her jaw and down her neck, sucking on her ear lobe and sliding his tongue into her ear as he rolled on top of her and began to move his pelvis, fucking her hard as he'd promised. She moaned under him as he continued his motion, bringing himself almost to the brink once more before he abruptly pulled out of her and shimmied down the bed to suck on her sweet pussy. Soon she was bucking against him once more, grabbing the sheets in her fists and moaning in pleasure as the threads of desire coiled tighter inside her. This time, he didn't hold back when she became really quiet, this time he kept going and pushed her straight over the edge and into oblivion. "Harry! Yes! Oh God, YES!" she called out, louder than she'd ever done before as he felt her muscles ripple around his fingers and her whole body shake at the intensity of her orgasm.

He lifted his head to look at her and slid his fingers out of her gently, pushing her legs apart and entering her once more. She moaned softly as he sheathed himself inside her and leant over her to kiss her lips. "I love you," he murmured against them as he began to move, straightening his arms, knowing that this was the perfect angle for her in this position. He began to drive into her in a steady rhythm, increasing the tempo slowly and moments later she cried out again as her felt her squeeze him tightly inside her. He didn't even pause in his thrusts this time, but kept going until she came again.

"Stop," she whispered. "I can't."

"Once more, Ruth, for me. Together," he said, and she nodded once as he sat back on his heels and lifted her legs up, placing them over his shoulders before beginning to move again. "I love to fuck you, Ruth," he murmured as he watched her face, "And I love to watch you come. Come for me, Ruth. Come now." He drove into her again and again, over and over in an increasingly frenzied pattern until he could hold back no more and he groaned, "Now, Ruth." He pressed into her hard and heard her gasp as he threw his head back and groaned her name. His mind and muscles turned to mush in an instant as his heart beat thundered in his ears and his chest heaved with each harsh breath he took. He fell back onto his heels and pulled her legs against his face, pressing gentle kisses to her skin for several moments before remaining upright became harder than attempting to move. Then he released her gently and moved to lie next to her, flopping down onto his back.

She lay motionless for what seemed like hours, unable to move. Even her eyelids felt too heavy to lift at that moment. She felt him role over to face her and heard him groan in contentment as his fingertips began to stroke her skin gently, and a few moments later, his tongue licked her nipples.

"Delicious," he murmured as he watched the smile creep across her lips.

"That's your daughter's breakfast, Harry," she mumbled. "I never pegged you as someone who would steal from his own child."

He chuckled and replied, "She's still sleeping and it would be a shame to waste it, Ruth. It's no wonder she never stops nursing, it's so very sweet, and in any case, it's not my fault you leak."

"Actually, I rather think it is," she answered. "It never happens when I do it alone."

"Alone?" he asked intrigued. "Ruth, we've been having sex at least every other day and have spent almost all day, every day together since my second retirement. When do you even have time to do it alone?"

"Not recently," she blushed, but forced herself to go on; she was determined to take their intimacy to the next level, no matter how uncomfortable it was initially. After all, when she'd first started dating Harry, it had been just as difficult to speak up about what she wanted and needed, and yet now it was second nature to her. "When the Russians were in town," she murmured, "there were a couple of nights when I was desperate and you weren't home yet. And besides, the book I've been reading recently says it's important to engage in self-gratification and that it actually increases your desire for sex."

"I'm not sure that's very wise, Ruth," Harry frowned. "I might not be able to keep up."

"Don't worry," she smiled and added with a blush, "If need be, you can always just watch."

Harry looked stunned for a moment and it was worth the momentary discomfort she'd felt when she said it to see the look on his face. "Hell's bells, Ruth," he growled after a second or so of silence, during which his expression had shifted from one of surprise, to disbelief, to admiration, and finally, desire. "You're going to be the death of me one day... What book is this?"

"The multi-orgasmic woman," she smiled.

"You already are multi-orgasmic, Ruth," he murmured huskily. He may not be young enough to be ready for round two physically, but the rest of his body's responses were not nearly as sluggish, and he quickly found himself wishing that he was thirty odd years younger and able to go again right now.

"Mmmm," she agreed. "Thanks to you. I could never do it before, you know." She sighed in pleasure and added, "God, Harry, that was good. I hope we can start every Christmas like this from now on."

"Well, Ruth," he replied after a momentary hesitation as his eyes suddenly turned sad, "I'll do my best. Unfortunately, however, I am quite a bit older than you and I can't make any promises."

She watched him for a moment, thinking about the possibility of loosing him. He was right; he was older than her and would in all likelihood die first, and she might still be quite young. Oddly, it had not been something she'd really considered before. The possibility of Harry dying was something she had worried about of course, but it had always been linked in her mind with his job, never his age. It would hurt more than anything to loose him, but she would also be so grateful for the time they'd had together. She knew how fragile life was, had lost many of her loved ones, staring with her father at the tender age of eleven. She would miss him terribly, but she'd already resolved to enjoy the here and now, and not worry about the future. No one knew what it held anyway and concern over what might happen had caused her to loose so much time already. She was done worrying about the what ifs; life was too short for that.

"Harry," she said as she raised her hand to cup his face, "you do know that I'll love you even when you're really, really old, have no hair left on your head and too much coming out of your nose and ears, all your teeth have fallen out, you don't remember who I am, and you can't get it up any more, don't you?" He chuckled and nodded, amused by the picture she painted. "The most important thing is that I'm with you. The rest is just icing on the cake."

He smiled and said, "Then I hope we can start every Christmas, birthday, anniversary, holiday... hell, and every other day in between like this too. We have to make the most of it while it lasts, and I can still get it up as you so rightly pointed out." She laughed and he added, "But Ruth, I feel the need to point out that I very much enjoy giving you pleasure without the use of the certain part of my anatomy that we've been discussing, and I will always be happy to do so whenever you wish."

"I'll hold you to that, Sir Harry," she smiled.

"Mmmm, do," he murmured as he pulled her into his arms and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

* * *

_Same day, 25th December, 12 pm_

"Hi, Mum," Ruth smiled as she opened the door to her mother.

"Hello, Ruth," Elizabeth replied. "Happy Christmas."

"And to you, Mum. Come in," she held the door open wider and allowed her mother to enter, giving her a brief hug before closing the door, helping her remove her coat, and hanging it up for her.

"Where's my favourite granddaughter?" she asked as she glanced down the hall.

"Harry has her in the sitting room," Ruth smiled. "She fell asleep on his chest and he's using it as an excuse not to get up."

"Sounds just like your father," Elizabeth replied. "He was always coming up with a good reason not to help in the kitchen."

Ruth groaned inwardly but wisely said nothing as she mentally kicked herself for saying such a thing. Her mother, it seemed, was determined to find fault with Harry. In the first couple of months of her relationship with him, she'd wondered if it was the age difference that bothered her. After all, Harry was closer to her mother's age that he was to hers, just like she was closer to Catherine and Graham's age than to Harry's. She supposed some people would have a problem with that and as they grew older it would become more of an issue for them also. However, she'd decided recently that her mother wouldn't have approved of any man she'd chosen to marry. Approval just wasn't something she did. She hadn't approved of either of her husbands and hadn't approved of her daughter or her step-son. Ruth wondered if she would approve of Fiona as she grew older. She hoped so. The poor kid only had one grandmother and a grandfather who was in a nursing home suffering from Alzheimer's. He didn't even recognise Harry any longer and it pained her to see it.

The first time they'd visited the home where he lived, a few days after she'd met Catherine, Harry had looked so heartbroken that it had made her heart ache for him. He'd been so gentle with his father, helping him to drink and eat a little, talking to him about this and that, telling him about Catherine, Graham, Fiona, and Jamie, even thought it was clear that James Pearce couldn't and wouldn't remember who they were. She'd fallen in love with him all over again on that day, and that night she'd plucked up her courage and asked him a little about his childhood. He'd been reluctant at first to talk about it, but once he'd started to open up, they'd talked for hours, sharing stories about their parents, their brothers, their escapades, their experiences at school, and it had brought them closer together than ever before. She was sure now that they'd only survived Elena Gavrik because of that night, because she'd realized then that they could have more, that Harry was capable of more, and that, in time, they could have everything and _be_ everything to each other. And _that_ was something for which she would fight tooth and nail if she had to.

She followed her mother into the living room where Harry was sitting in an arm chair, humming softly to his sleeping daughter. He loved to hum.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Harry said softly. "Happy Christmas."

"Thank you, Harry," Elizabeth replied. "Happy Christmas. How is my little granddaughter?"

"Very well as you can see," Harry murmured and carefully began to get up. He was good at doing it without waking her now, and on the nights when Fiona was teething and couldn't sleep, he would walk with her and sit with her for hours if she needed it. He loved to hold her close.

For years he'd held back from physical contact with people, knowing how necessary his self-control and self-denial were for his job and his sanity while doing that job. Too often in the past, he'd let them slip and had paid for those mistakes, most notably with the loss of his marriage and children, and later, after Cotterdam, with the loss of Ruth. Now that he'd began to let them go, however, he found he craved to touch his wife and hold his daughter. He couldn't get enough of it. Ruth, he could tell, was puzzled by it and at times a little overwhelmed, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He didn't want to stop himself. He felt like a teenager again with his first girlfriend, back when it had been so wonderful and new to be allowed to touch someone, to hold hands, to kiss and cuddle, that he'd wanted to do it all the time. And that's exactly how he felt about Ruth now.

He was sure that she enjoyed this change in his behaviour toward her, but he could tell that sometimes she wanted some distance, and at those times, he was especially grateful for his daughter. She never tired of being held... not yet at any rate. In a few months, that would change of course. Once she'd start crawling, she'd be wanting to go places, explore, discover the world around her. Hopefully by that point, his need for physical contact will have subsided once more. Not completely, however. He'd already decided that he would never revert back to his behaviour on the Grid.

"Would you like to hold her?" he asked Elizabeth quietly.

"Perhaps I'd better wait until she wakes up," she replied as she stroked her granddaughter's arm with one finger. "She's grown so much. Is she rolling over yet?"

"Not yet," Ruth replied. "She's working on it, though. She's the most active little thing and so determined."

"Well, that's hardly surprising," Elizabeth smiled. "She's your daughter. You were walking by nine months, talking in complete sentences at two, and reading at three."

"Christ," Harry muttered under his breath, "I never thought I'd say this, but I hope she takes after me, or we'll never be able to keep up with her."

Ruth laughed and teased, "Speak for yourself, Harry. I'm sure I'll do just fine. Anyway, what Mum failed to mention is that once I started reading, they never had to worry about me again; I was always curled up somewhere warm, reading a book."

"You were a very easy child after the age of three," Elizabeth confirmed and added with a sigh. "Even the boys didn't seem to interest you as much as books."

"_Mum!_" she objected immediately, "Can we _not_ have this conversation again right now."

"All right, Dear," Elizabeth replied as she turned and walked over to the sofa and took a seat. "I was just saying that having your nose glued to a book didn't do you a lot of good in the long run."

Harry saw Ruth about to open her mouth and give her mother a piece of her mind, and he quickly stepped between them, sliding his hand around hers and squeezing it gently. "Take Fiona, Ruth," he said quietly and proceeded to hand over their sleeping daughter, using it as a pretext to lean in and whisper in her ear, "I disagree too, Ruth. If you'd been chasing after boys instead of reading books, I wouldn't have stood a chance. You probably wouldn't have joined MI-5 and would certainly have married a good looking, smarter, younger, and all around better man." He pulled back and smiled at her. "Let it go; it's Christmas," he added after a moment.

She smiled and nodded as she shifted Fiona around in her arms before whispering back, "You're wrong. If I searched for a lifetime, I would never have found someone better than you."

Harry grinned and held her gaze for a few moments before turning around and offering Elizabeth a drink.


	48. Chapter 48

_Same day, 25th of December, 4 pm_

"Ganpa!" Jamie squealed when Harry opened the door.

"Hello, Jamie. Happy Christmas," Harry smiled as he lifted his grandson up and gave him a kiss, stepping back into the hall to let Graham enter.

"Up, Ganpa, up!" he exclaimed.

"Just a moment, Jamie," Harry said. "Let me wish Daddy a Happy Christmas too." He turned to Graham and smiled as he balanced Jamie on his left hip. "Happy Christmas, Son."

"Merry Christmas, Dad," Graham grinned, and stepping forward, he embraced his father briefly before moving back.

"Up, Ganpa," Jamie said.

"Yes, Jamie," Harry smiled as he turned toward him and kissed his hair. "Let's take your coat off." So with Graham's help, he removed Jamie's coat and lifted him up onto his shoulders.

"Catherine and Richard should be right behind us," Graham murmured as he hung their coats up. "We left Mum's together."

"How is your mother?" Harry asked as they turned to walk down the hall together.

"All right," Graham replied. "A little surprised that you're organizing a Christmas get together for us, but that was to be expected I suppose."

"You didn't tell her about Ruth and Fiona?" Harry asked in surprise as they entered the sitting room.

"No," Graham replied. "We weren't sure if you wanted us to, and besides, it's not as if she asks after you. Tea at your place only came up because we had to leave earlier than usual from hers."

"Nice to know that she still cares," Harry muttered under his breath.

Graham wisely refrained from pointing out that this was the first time he'd asked about his ex-wife, so he could hardly talk. Instead he asked, "Is Ruth with Fiona?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "She's nursing her." Then he said to his grandson, "Let's get you down, Jamie, and play a game."

"No," Jamie objected and tightened his grip on Harry.

"All right, Jamie," Harry gasped. "All right. You can stay up a little longer. There's no need to strangle me."

"Gently, Jamie," Graham said in a firm, yet kind voice. "You're hurting Grandpa."

Jamie relaxed his grip a little just as the door bell rang. "Let's see who's at the door, Jamie," Harry suggested and turned to walk back down the hall.

"Dad!" Catherine beamed and gave him a rather awkward hug as her abdomen was now huge. "Merry Christmas."

"Harry Christmas, Catherine," he smiled as he stepped back to let her enter. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Dad," Catherine replied. "A little tired and somewhat impatient for your grandchild to make an appearance, but otherwise I'm okay. Richard's being wonderful."

"I'm glad to hear it," Harry smiled as Richard followed Catherine into the house. Then they shook hands and they wished each other a happy Christmas before Richard hung up their coats.

"I see you've already got the best seat in the house, Jamie," Richard smiled, tugging gently on the little boy's foot.

"Up," Jamie replied.

"You _are_ very high up, Jamie," Catherine smiled. "Your Daddy used to like sitting on Grandpa's shoulders too, you know. In fact, he asked to go to the park almost every day so that he could get a chance to ride up there. Do you remember that, Graham?"

"Yeah," Graham grinned as they walked into the sitting room. "Remember the time when you dropped me, Dad?"

"I did _not_ drop you," Harry said indignantly. "You grabbed hold of a tree branch, causing me to loose my balance, and we both ended up in a heap on the ground."

"I remember that!" Catherine laughed. "You looked so funny. Dad fell over backwards and you landed on his face."

"Ouch!" Richard grimaced.

"Yeah," Graham grinned. "He was all right though, but I think that was the last time he ever gave me a ride on his shoulders. Said I'd graduated to piggyback rides."

"If you can call a black eye, a bloody nose, and several bruised ribs all right, Son," Harry commented dryly, "it's hardly surprising that I refused to risk repeating the experience. I remember your mother wouldn't believe me when I said I didn't get in a fist fight. It was only because Catherine told her what happened that she accepted the explanation I offered in the end."

"It was hardly surprising that she didn't believe you, Dad," Catherine objected, "when just the previous week you'd come back with a shiner from some pub brawl."

"You remember that?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"Yes," Catherine nodded. "It was the first time I realized that your job was dangerous. I overheard you telling Mum that she needn't worry and that you'd suffered much worse at work."

"That was when Mum told us he was a policeman, wasn't it?" Graham asked.

Catherine nodded and then chuckled as she amended, "A _glorified_ policeman."

"And _that_, Jamie," Ruth said with a smile as she approached, carrying a gurgling Fiona, "is what is called an oxymoron." Harry's frown of a moment ago turned into a smile, and she winked at him as she added, "There's no glory to be found in Grandpa's job. The best thing you can hope for in recognition of years of service is a knighthood, though I have heard rumours that your grandfather here was offered a peerage once." Then before anyone could question her last comment, Ruth looked up at Jamie and smiled. "Happy Christmas, Jamie," she said and turned to the others, adding, "Happy Christmas, all."

They all wished her and Fiona a happy Christmas as she hugged and kissed each one of them and Fiona got passed around. When Graham attempted to pass her back to Ruth, however, she began to whimper. "Did you miss me?" Graham grinned at his sister, and she gave him a big smile and began gurgling away at him as if she was telling him everything that he'd missed over the past few days. Everyone else laughed as Graham sat down on the sofa and Catherine took a seat by him.

"Ona," Jamie said and began to try to get down from his grandfather's shoulders.

"Hang on, Jamie," Harry warned. "I'll get you down. Stop wiggling."

Noticing what was going on, Richard stepped up to Harry and lifted Jamie down, setting him gently on the floor. Jamie immediately toddled forward to Catherine, as his father's lap was occupied, and began to climb up.

"Hello, Jamie," Catherine smiled, hugging her nephew to her.

"Ona," he said, pointing at his other aunt, who squealed in delight, kicking her legs and waving her arms.

Noticing that Ruth began to move toward the kitchen and that everyone else was occupied with the children, Harry moved closer to his wife and gently touched her arm, causing her to turn toward him. "You've been spying on me," he said with a frown.

"I have?" she asked in surprise.

"The offer you just mentioned was made during a confidential telephone conversation," he clarified.

Ruth smiled and replied, "Thank you for confirming my suspicions. I only overheard your side of the conversation when I came up to the roof to see if you were all right. You said you were sufficiently ennobled, so I surmised that Towers had offered you a peerage. It's nice to know that I was right."

Harry glared at her for a moment, knowing that she'd come out on top yet again. Then choosing to attempt to throw her off by completely changing the subject, he softened his gaze and asked, "Don't I get a kiss? Everyone else did."

Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden shift in conversation before she recovered and smiled. "You've already had more than your fair share," she teased and watched his lips form a pout. She knew that he was doing it on purpose as he was well aware of how irresistible she found him when he did that.

"As your husband, Ruth, I'm entitled to at least a million times the number of kisses that anyone else gets," he murmured as he stepped closer to her.

"Is that so?" she asked with a smile.

"Yes," he replied, leaning his upper body toward her so that their faces were mere centimetres apart. "It's up there with sexual favours in the list of important benefits of marriage."

The comment took her completely by surprise, and she snorted with laughter, drawing everyone's attention over to them. Harry pulled back a little and smirked in satisfaction as Ruth swallowed in an effort to stop herself from bursting out laughing, unfortunately, however, she managed to make herself choke instead. Harry's expression immediately shifted to one of concern as he led her over to a chair, and Richard fetched her a glass of water from the kitchen, which she accepted gratefully when her coughing had subsided sufficiently to hold it without spilling it.

"Goodness, Ruth," Catherine said once she'd finally stopped coughing. "What on earth did you say to her, Dad?"

Harry looked a little uncomfortable as he briefly glanced at his daughter before turning toward the door, saying, "I think perhaps I'd better make the tea."

"I'll help," Richard offered and the two of them disappeared into the kitchen.

Soon they were all sitting around the coffee table, drinking tea and eating Christmas cake while they chatted away about this and that. Jamie was happily playing with his new toy train that Ruth and Harry had bought for him and Fiona was sleeping upstairs.

"Happy Christmas, Catherine," Harry smiled as he lent over and placed a medium sized gift bag in her lap.

"Dad!" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't have. Thank you."

She eagerly opened the gift and found the most beautiful silk sling inside it. It was a gorgeous, shiny blue on one side and an almost golden tan on the other with flowers embroidered on the blue side with thread that matched the golden tan colour of the lining perfectly. "Wow, Dad!" she exclaimed. "It's beautiful. Thank you." She got up and slipped it over her shoulder, adjusting it carefully and looking around at everyone.

"It's perfect on you," Ruth smiled.

"It looks great," Richard chimed in. "Like a beautiful shawl."

"Yeah," Graham added. "Everyone will be so busy admiring it, they won't notice the baby."

"You're such an idiot, Graham," Catherine frowned at him and turned to her father, giving him a warm hug and murmuring her thanks again. Then she embraced Ruth and thanked her too.

"It's our pleasure," Ruth smiled.

Next Richard received a set of filters for his camera that he'd mentioned he needed to replace. He thanked both Ruth and Harry warmly for his gift before sitting back to watch Graham open the small box he'd been given. Graham expected it to contain a watch, but when he opened the box he gasped. Inside was a set of two car keys. "Dad!" he exclaimed as he looked up at his father in disbelief. "I can't accept this!"

"Yes, you can and you will," Harry replied in a no nonsense tone.

"But-" Graham began to object, but he was interrupted by Ruth this time.

"Please, Graham," she said. "We worry about you and Jamie driving around in your old Fiesta. It's not safe. You were so lucky that you didn't get injured when the brakes failed last week."

"But a car, Ruth!" Graham objected. "It's too expensive."

"No, it wasn't," Harry chimed in. "A friend of mine gave it to me for practically nothing. I wanted to buy you a new one, but I knew you wouldn't accept it, so when Malcolm mentioned that he was selling his Clio, I bought it off him. Think of it as - what is it now? - twenty years worth of Christmas presents."

Graham was silent for a little while contemplating the keys he held in his hand until eventually he sighed, and looking up, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Dad. Thanks, Ruth. It means a lot. I confess that I've been worried about driving Jamie in the Fiesta and have been trying to work out how I was going to be able to afford a new car." He got up and embraced his father and Ruth in turn, thanking them again before taking a seat once more in his chair.

"And to think you two tried to talk us into buying you nothing for Christmas," Catherine smiled as she shook her head at Ruth and Harry. "It's a good job we didn't listen, isn't it?"

"Absolutely," Graham nodded fervently as he got up. "We'll be right back," he added as he and Richard left the room. Moments later, they heard the front door open and close as the two of them went out to Catherine's car to get the gift.

"You three are naughty," Ruth scolded Catherine. "We already got what we wanted for Christmas."

"Well," Catherine smiled, "call this a little something extra then that will come in handy very soon."

They didn't have to wait long before they heard the front door open again, and Graham popped his head round the door frame, saying, "Close your eyes, Dad, Ruth."

Ruth and Harry looked at each other and smiled before they closed their eyes as requested. There was a brief scuffling noise and then Catherine said, "Merry Christmas! You can open them now."

As soon as they opened their eyes, their gazes fell on Jamie, who was standing before them with Graham crouched by his side. Graham nodded and whispered something to Jamie, who said, "Mewwy Kissmas, Ganny and Ganpa."

Immediately, Ruth lent forward and gave him a big hug, murmuring, "Thank you, Jamie. That's so special," as she lifted him onto her lap. She was so touched by the gesture that, when she raised her eyes to Graham's a moment later, she had to clear her throat before she could trust her voice to thank him.

"You haven't even seen what it is yet," Graham teased with a grin.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure this was the best part of it," Ruth smiled in return.

"You're part of our family now, Ruth. He should have been calling you that since the beginning, but..." Graham shrugged. "Besides it's impossible to have too many grandmothers in my opinion." He smiled and then added, "Is Granny okay? Or would you prefer to be called something else? Dad seemed to think that that's what you'd prefer."

"It is," Ruth smiled as she glanced at Harry and squeezed his thigh affectionately. "My father's mother was my favourite, and she was always Granny."

Graham nodded and then stepped back, pulling the blanket off the set of four suitcases and bags of various sizes that was behind him.

Ruth gasped as her eyes fell on a them. "They're lovely," she smiled. "Thank you," she said, and putting Jamie on the sofa next to her, she got up to hug each of them.

"It's our pleasure, Ruth," Catherine smiled and kissed her cheek.

"And they should come in handy very soon too," Graham grinned and winked at Harry as Ruth retook her seat.

Ruth glanced from him to Harry and back before asking, "What aren't you telling me?"

Harry sighed and got up, walking over to the bookcase and pulling out a book on cricket. He opened the back cover and took out an envelope before sliding the book back into its place. Then he turned around and walked up to Ruth. "Happy Christmas, Ruth," he said quietly as he handed her the envelope.

She frowned at him slightly as she took the envelope from his hand and unfolded the flap. Inside she found three tickets to Berlin, rail-passes for Europe, and a list of hotel bookings in all the major capitals of Europe, including Paris on Valentine's day. She gasped and looked up at Harry, her eyes shining with a mixture of pleasure and love. "Oh, Harry," was all she managed to say before she got up and launched herself into his embrace.

Harry squeezed her tightly against his chest as he murmured, "You know I've always wanted to take this trip with you. I'm afraid we won't be able to sit outside in the cafés liked we'd talked about, but I thought that, if we wait until the summer, Fiona would probably be walking and... well, three's a crowd as they say."

"Yes," she sighed and pulled back to look at him. "I'm sure it will be perfect, Harry. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," Harry murmured huskily as they gazed at each other for long moments.

"So when are you leaving?" Catherine asked, tactfully reminding them that they were not alone.

"A little over a month," Harry smiled as he turned to face his daughter. "We couldn't leave before we meet our newest grandchild, could we?" Catherine shook her head and opened her mouth to respond, but Harry continued, saying, "But what _I _want to know is how you three found out about this."

"Just because Ruth doesn't open any books on cricket," Graham grinned, "it doesn't mean that the rest of us aren't likely to do so."

Harry chuckled and Ruth smiled. "_Didn't_ open," she corrected, making everyone laugh.

"Looks like you'll have to find a new hiding place, Harry," Richard observed with a chuckle.

"Unfortunately, yes," Harry smiled. "Well, at any rate, I'm glad you didn't spill the beans and thank you for the suitcases. They will indeed be very useful."

"The smallest one has some clothes for Fiona in it," Catherine added. "I couldn't resist buying her a bunch of winter outfits. They were just too adorable for words."

"You'd better have a girl then so Fiona can hand them down to her," Ruth smiled.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Catherine replied as she slid her hand lovingly over her protruding abdomen.

"And in any case," Richard smiled as he slid his arm around Catherine's waist, "there's always next time..."

* * *

_Same day, 25th December, 9 pm_

Harry yawned loudly and stretched before bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in an effort to keep himself awake.

"Bed time?" Ruth smiled from the doorway.

"I'm not sure I can muster the required energy to get up, let alone climb the stairs," Harry replied, his voice husky from sleepiness.

"We could always sleep here," she replied as she crossed the room and sat down beside him on the thick rug in front of the gas fire, leaning back against the arm chair behind her.

"As tempting as that seems right now, I know I'll regret it in the morning," Harry murmured, shifting slightly forward, away from the armchair and lying down with his head on her lap. "My back is rather unforgiving nowadays."

Ruth smiled and began to run her fingers through his short curls and to massage and rub his right ear, making him close his eyes and hum contentedly. They were silent for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company and proximity as their minds wondered.

"Let's get a house with a proper fireplace," Ruth said presently. "I miss the smell and sound of a real wood fire."

"Mmmm," Harry agreed thought he couldn't find the energy to respond verbally.

Ruth smiled fondly down at him and replied, "Come on, Harry. Bed. You're shattered." Then she slowly coaxed him into sitting up and watched as he blearily looked around.

She got up and offered him her hand, but he refused it, saying, "Give me a moment."

"How about I give you your present while you work up the energy to stand?" she said.

"Another present?" Harry asked, looking a little more alert all of a sudden.

"I haven't given you my present yet," Ruth smiled and walked over to the tree, reaching round it for the envelope that was hidden behind it.

"You did this morning," Harry sighed and smiled at the recollection. "It was the best present I've ever had, I might add."

"Well," Ruth chuckled, "then this is a little something extra. Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry took the envelope from her hand and murmured his thanks before opening it carefully. Inside was a picture of a black and white spaniel with the name Pepper written underneath it.

"I know you miss having a dog, Harry," Ruth said as she watched him, "so I wanted to give you one for Christmas. I saw this dog at the animal shelter last week. She's such a sweet thing. She's three and was a family dog, but her owners couldn't keep her any longer for financial reasons. She was very much loved and they even left a note for her new owners saying how much they love her, how wonderful she is, especially with children, and asking for her to be well cared for and loved. I thought, if you don't object, we could adopt her, unless of course you would prefer a different dog."

Harry smiled and looked up at her saying, "No, Ruth. She's perfect. You already like her, so I'm sure I will too. We'll go round tomorrow and fill in the paperwork. Thank you." He got up and pulled her into his arms, kissing her lips softly. When he pulled back he smiled down at her and said, "and now bed, I think."

Ruth nodded, and pulling out of his embrace, she switched off the fire and the light, while Harry checked the front door was locked and the alarm set before they made their way up the stairs together.

"That was the best Christmas I've had in years," Ruth said and Harry wholeheartedly agreed.


	49. Epilogue

**And finally, the epilogue. Part of me is so sad that this story is finished; I enjoyed writing it so much, but another part of me is dancing a jig right now to have finally completed one of my fics. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. A big thank you to all those who read, and especially, those who reviewed any part of this story. I would really love a final review. Cheers, S.C.  
**

* * *

_Three and a half years later, 8th June, 11:30 am_

"Hello?" Ruth answered her phone.

"Hi," Harry replied warmly. "Are you still at the duck pond?"

"No," Ruth smiled. "We've just reached the sandpit."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he replied.

"Μαμά, μαμά," Fiona tugged on her hand. "Ποιός είναι; Είναι ο μπαμπάς;"

"Okay," Ruth answered him, "see you in a bit." Then she ended the call and turned to her daughter. "Ναι. Έρχεται τώρα να μας συναντίσει," she replied.

Fiona jumped up and down excitedly and Ruth smiled, but out of the corner of her eye she suddenly caught sight of a man standing with his back toward her. He looked familiar, and she reflexively tightened her grip on her daughter's hand in alarm. Turning toward him more fully, she realized that he wasn't alone, but that a girl of about five or six was standing by him pleading with him to let her play a little longer.

"Pleeeease, Daddy, pleeeease," she begged, turning puppy dog eyes on him. Ruth smiled and relaxed a little, while inwardly berating herself for being so paranoid.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we have to go," he replied, and as soon as Ruth heard his voice, she gasped.

"Tom!" she said in amazement and watched as the man turned toward her.

His face registered surprise for a moment before a grin spread across it, and he stepped forward, saying, "Ruth! I can't believe it!"

Ruth watched as his expression shifted from one of joy to one of unease in an instant, and she quickly took a couple of steps toward him, saying, "It's okay, Tom. I'm a civil servant now. There's no need to worry about us being seen talking." She saw the smile return to his face and seconds later he wrapped his arms around her in a big bear hug.

"God, it's so good to see you," he murmured. "How are you?"

"Fine," she smiled when he released her and stepped back. "And you?"

"Good," he replied. "Great in fact."

"Μαμά," Fiona interrupted, tugging on her mother's skirt. "Θέλω να παίξω."

"Μισό λεπτό, αγάπη μου," Ruth said as she turned to Fiona, "Ο κύριος είναι παλιός φίλος της μαμάς. Υπομονή." Then she reached down and picked her up before saying in English, "Come say hello to my friend. Fiona, this is Mr. Quinn. Tom, my daughter, Fiona."

"Hello, Fiona," he smiled as Fiona looked at him shyly, dipping her head down and looking at him through her eyelashes. "How old are you?"

Fiona wordlessly held up three fingers, and then turned toward her mother and asked in a rather loud whisper as she pointed at Tom's daughter, "Who's that?"

"This is my daughter, Zoe," Tom replied. "Zoe, this is Ms..." he tailed off and looked at Ruth questioningly.

"Ruth," she smiled. "Just Ruth's fine."

Tom turned back to his daughter and continued, "This is Ruth and Fiona."

"Pleased to meet you," Zoe said a little shyly, but she held her hand out to Ruth.

Ruth shook it gently and answered, "The pleasure is all mine, Zoe. You have such a pretty name."

Fiona began to wiggle in her mother's arms, so Ruth set her down and watched as she approached Zoe boldly and asked, "Hello. Do you want to play?"

Zoe looked uncertainly up at her father who nodded. "Five more minutes," he said.

She smiled and said, "Okay," to Fiona, who wasted no time in taking her hand in hers and pulling her toward the sandpit, while their parents watched them in fond amusement.

"A determined little thing, isn't she?" Tom commented dryly.

"Yes," Ruth sighed. "Doesn't often take no for an answer."

Tom laughed and said, "I imagine not. She must be quite a handful. My eldest is like that. I can't tell you how glad Christine and I are that Zoe is not like her sister in that respect."

"You have two girls?" Ruth asked as she turned to look at him, having ascertained that the girls were safe for the moment.

"Yes," Tom nodded. "Sierra is eight and Zoe just turned six."

"Sierra," Ruth smiled. "How very American."

Tom laughed and nodded. "I'm afraid so. Christine really loved the name, and in the end, I agreed on the condition that I got to name our second."

Ruth nodded. "Zoe," she whispered.

Tom merely continued to watch the children as they both took a trip down memory lane. "She's well, you know," he volunteered eventually. "Has two children, Danny and Alex. She contacted me about a year ago to see how I was. She found my security firm online."

"I'm glad," Ruth smiled. "Give her my best, won't you?"

"Of course," he replied. They watched the children in silence for a moment and then he asked, "How are the others? Do you know?"

Ruth met his gaze for a moment as the sadness welled up inside her. Then she cleared her throat and said, "Malcolm's well. He retired a few years ago. We live quite close to him and get to see him often."

"Good," Tom nodded, though he had a melancholy air about him all of a sudden. "Danny? Adam?... Harry?" he asked after a moment as they both watched their children building a sandcastle together.

"Danny and Adam didn't make it," she whispered in a chocked voice before clearing her throat and adding, "but Harry's fine. He retired three and a half years ago now, just before I went to work for the Home Office. Actually, he's-"

"Obviously still a much better field agent that you are, Tom. You must be getting rusty," Harry's voice interrupted from right behind them, making them both jump and spin round to face him.

"Harry!" Tom said in surprise as they shook hands and clapped each other on the back affectionately.

"It's good to see you, Tom," he replied. "You look well. Freelance security advising must suit you."

"It keeps me and Christine busy, but we still have time for the girls," he agreed. "What about you? What are you up to these days, Harry?"

"This and that," he shrugged enigmatically, prompting a frown from Ruth. It was hard to break a habit of a lifetime when it came to giving out information about himself and his family. When he'd retired, he'd put some checks and balances in place to ensure his safety and that of his rapidly expanding family. He'd let the DG, Home Secretary, and the directors of the JIC and Six know that, if anything happened to any of them, he had vital and very damning information on all of them, and a few more important people besides, that would find its way into the wrong hands immediately. He'd made it clear that the information would not endanger the country or the Security Services in any way, but it would almost certainly spell the end of their careers. It looked like they'd taken the threat seriously as not only had they not come after him in any way, but it looked like they'd prevented others from doing so as well.

Moving out of London along the coast of Suffolk had helped, he was sure, and they had a comfortable life there. Malcolm and Graham were not far, though by no means next door either. It was only Catherine who'd remained in the capital, and Ruth, who commuted daily for work. All things considered, they had a good life and he was determined to keep it that way, and avoiding answering personal questions was one of many ways to do so. This was Tom Quinn, however, one of his brightest and his best, and despite the unfortunate circumstances which led to his decommissioning, he still trusted Tom not to betray them. After all, he was in a similar situation with his own family, working hard to protect them from any part of his and Christine's former life that might come back to get them.

He smiled softly at Ruth and added, "I find myself doing a lot of things that I missed out on while I was in the Service."

Tom caught the soft, secret smile that his two former colleagues shared, and coupled with the fact that he ran into them here at the same time, he came to the obvious and yet startling conclusion that Harry and Ruth were a couple. He was about to open his mouth to ask about his newly aroused suspicions, when Fiona looked up at them and scrambled to her feet quickly, running toward them and calling out, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

Tom had just about enough time to register the look of heartfelt pleasure on Harry's face before the small girl, flung herself into his arms and was lifted up high in the air before he pulled her to his chest and kissed her cheek. "Hello, Beautiful," he smiled.

"Hi, Daddy," she replied. "Where _were_ you? Mummy and I had to feed _all_ the ducks by ourselves."

"I'm sorry, Fiona," Harry murmured. "I had a few errands to run. What have you been building?"

"A castle!" she exclaimed. "Come see." Then she wiggled in his arms until he lowered her to the ground, and grasping his hand firmly in her own, she began pulling him over to the sandpit.

Harry murmured a quiet, "Excuse me," before allowing himself to be led over to the sandpit, leaving Ruth to answer the inevitable questions from Tom.

"You and Harry?" Tom asked after a moment's silence, during which he attempted to reconcile the image of Harry Pearce, boss spook, ruthless, calculating, cold-hearted bastard, that he'd known about a decade ago now, with the content, open, devoted man before him. "When did that happen?"

"That's an incredibly difficult question to answer, Tom," Ruth sighed.

"How so?" he asked intrigued.

"We were in love before you left," she smiled, "but it took us years to acknowledge it and even longer to do something about it. I suppose the simplest answer is that we got married nearly four years ago now, and we're very happy."

He nodded and replied, "I'm glad, Ruth. You deserve to be happy."

"Thank you, Tom."

They watched Harry talking to Fiona and Zoe for a few more moments before Tom added, "I still can't get my head around the fact that this is Harry Pearce, master spy and boss of Section D. In all the years I'd worked for him, I never even got a glimpse of this side of his character. It makes you realize just how good a spook he really was."

"He seldom let his guard down," Ruth agreed, "but occasionally, he did with me. That's why I fell in love with him, and I knew that nobody would understand that because he never let them see his gentle, kind, caring side. He couldn't and I accepted that, but knowing what others would think of me, of us as a couple, made it almost impossible for me to allow myself to be with him. It took me years to finally let it happen, but in retrospect, I believe it worked out for the best. He was almost ready to leave Five by then, and we're so much happier away from that place."

"Me too," Tom nodded as they walked over to the sand pit, and he gave her a brief smile before crouching down next to Harry and admiring the castle their daughters had built.

* * *

_Same day, 8th June, 1pm_

"Happy birthday, dear Charlotte, happy birthday to you," everyone sang enthusiastically as the birthday girl stared all around her in bewilderment.

"Can I help her, Catherine?" Jamie asked eagerly.

"Me too, me too!" Fiona interjected.

"And me!" Ben exclaimed. "She's _my _sister!"

"You can all help her," Catherine reassured them. "On three. One... two... three!"

All three children blew at the single candle in the middle of the very pink cake, and all the adults cheered and clapped when the candle went out.

"Can we have cake now?" Fiona asked excitedly.

"Yes," Catherine replied and proceeded to cut the cake and serve it into plates that Richard passed around.

"_I _wanted the first piece," Fiona whined, watching Charlotte stick her little hand into her cake.

"Το ξέρω, αγάπη μου_,_" Ruth said patiently as she crouched down beside her. "Όλοι θέλουν το πρώτο κομμάτι, αλλά μόνο ένας μπορεί να το έχει. Σήμερα είναι τα γεννέθλεια της Charlotte, και έτσι αυτή θα πάρει το πρώτο."

"Όχι!" Fiona exclaimed. "It's not fair. _I _want it."

"Here you go, Fiona," Richard said and placed a piece of cake in front of her.

"I don't want it!" Fiona shouted and pushed the plate away.

Ruth tried to reason with her, but in vain, Fiona was already loosing control of herself.

"Come on, Fiona," Harry said firmly as he stepped forward to assist Ruth, and scooping his daughter into his arms and ignoring her protests which began escalating in volume as he moved away from the table, he left the room. He took Fiona upstairs into Ben's bedroom and sat down on his bed.

Fiona was having a full blown tantrum by now, and as she struggled in his arms, he released her onto the bed where she continued to cry and punch and kick the mattress. It took a few minutes, but slowly Fiona began to calm down, and eventually, she sat up and crawled onto his lap where she cuddled against him while he stroked her hair tenderly. They'd done this many, many times over the past few years. Fiona had always been a very determined little person who never gave up easily, however, her main driving force was a wish to do things by herself, and not a desire to get her own way. This meant that she was usually a reasonably cooperative child and one could reason with her despite her very young age.

Harry and Ruth had decided early on, that the best way to deal with her stubbornness was to stop her from doing only the things that were dangerous for her or others. Thus, they worked hard to adapt her environment so that is was safe, and they presented her with opportunities to do things for herself. She had her own small table and chair, her own cupboard with her plates, cups, cutlery, and snacks, and even her own place in the fridge.

However, she didn't have any siblings young enough to be a source of competition, and even though she did see Jamie quite a lot, she didn't have to wait her turn on a daily basis at home. So today, after her long morning at the park, her refusal to take a nap, and the excitement of her niece's birthday party, she was warn out and unusually uncooperative.

"When you're ready to listen to what I have to say, we can go back downstairs and you can eat your cake," Harry murmured after a bit.

"I'm ready, Daddy," she said quietly after a moment and lifted her head from his chest.

Harry smiled down at her and wiped the tears from her cheeks with a tissue before saying gently, "I know you're very excited about Charlotte's party and maybe just a little bit tired from the park this morning, but before we can go down and have some cake, you need to say sorry to Catherine, Richard and Mummy for shouting and not using your manners."

"Okay, Daddy," she nodded and slid off his lap onto the floor.

"That's my girl," he smiled. "I'm so proud of you, Fiona."

He stood up and took her hand in his before they made their way out of the room and down the stairs. At the bottom, they turned toward the kitchen and Harry managed to catch Ruth's eye through the open doorway.

She made her way to their side quietly and crouched down in front of Fiona. "Αισθάνεσαι καλήτερα, αγάπη μου;" she asked.

Fiona nodded and reached for her, wrapping her arms round Ruth's neck and burying her face in her shoulder. "Συγνώμη, μαμά," she said.

"Δεν έγινε τίποτα, Fiona," Ruth replied and hugged her tightly.

In the mean time, Harry had slipped past them into the kitchen and managed to get hold of Richard and Catherine whom he sent out into the hall so that Fiona could apologise.

"Is Fiona okay, Grandpa?" Jamie asked in concern when Harry sat down next to him at the table.

"She's fine, Jamie," Harry smiled. "Just a little tired." Then he leant in and whispered conspiratorially, "but don't tell her that, will you?"

Jamie smiled and shook his head making his blonde curls dance. "I'm not daft, Grandpa. Little kids don't like to be told their tired even when they are," he said sagely.

Graham, who was bouncing Charlotte on his knee, grinned and winked at his father across the table as Jamie turned back to eating his cake.

"They certainly don't, Jamie," Harry smiled and turned to Ben. "Is it good cake, Ben?" he asked.

Ben nodded enthusiastically and made a sound that sounded a little like a yes, but was almost indecipherable as his mouth was completely full.

The sound of the doorbell followed by voices in the hall, announced the arrival of the other grandparents, though much to everyone's surprise it wasn't Richard's parents who appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, but Catherine's and Graham's mother, Jane, and her partner, Arthur.

"Mum!" Graham exclaimed and got up, expertly moving the birthday girl to his hip and embracing his mother. "We didn't expect you until this afternoon."

"I know, Darling," Jane smiled, "but Arthur's business concluded early and it seemed silly to delay coming over until later. We thought we might head home tonight after we leave here." She turned her attention to her youngest grandchild and took her in her arms, making a fuss of her while Arthur shook hands with Graham and Harry, and greeted the two boys.

After greeting Jane and her husband, Harry moved back to a corner of the room as was his habit in large company, partly because he enjoyed observing what was going on, a luxury he hadn't been able to indulge in as Head of Section D, and partly because, even after three years of meeting Jane at their grandchildren's birthday parties, he still didn't feel entirely comfortable in her presence. They were civil to each other, but he could feel that she still hadn't forgiven him for any part of what had happened between them, and it gave him no pleasure to be around her. In fact at times, he'd been almost resolved to get up and leave, but Ruth had talked him out of it, reminding him how many times he'd had to sit through meeting after meeting with politicians that he detested and telling him that he could do it again for his children and grandchildren rather than his country.

She was right of course, but it pained him to see the way Jane treated her. Even his children had noticed the coldness with which Jane responded to Ruth, though the latter went out of her way to be kind to her. In the end, Catherine and Graham had began to arrange double birthday parties or at least separate visits for their parents so they rarely encountered each other. It worked well, though not perfectly, today being a case in point.

Ruth helped Fiona take a seat at the table and got her a piece of cake before sitting beside her. Soon Fiona was engrossed with eating, and she had time to watch the others. Jamie was getting so big now; he was already five, and such a happy and yet determined little boy, who loved any form of physical activity and sport, much to the delight of his Grandfather who was already enjoying teaching him the finer points of cricket. Ben was more intellectual than his cousin, and though he enjoyed running around and trying to keep up with Jamie, he preferred drawing pictures and listening to music and stories if he was given a choice. Fiona seemed to enjoy everything, which was lucky as she could fit in with either of her nephews, running, climbing trees, and playing ball with Jamie, and reading and drawing with Ben when they were together. Jamie was her favourite as he was older and had inherited a generous dose of the Pearce charm, and she looked up to him and tried her best to keep up with him, even to the point of insisting that Harry teach her how to play cricket, football, and even rugby so that she could impress Jamie.

Ruth smiled as she watched Jamie gobble down the rest of his cake and excuse himself from the table to go play. Fiona immediately abandoned her cake in favour of Jamie and also got down, running out of the room, hot on his heels. Only Ben seemed unperturbed by anything and continued to carefully eat his cake, savouring the sweet, full flavour of this unusual treat. Much like Harry, Ben marched to his own drum beat, Ruth thought with fond admiration. She wondered briefly what Charlotte would be like. She already followed the older ones around whenever she got the chance, and she was very active. It would be good for Ben is she was an active child, she mused. It would be all too easy for their younger grandson to become too sedentary, like she had been as a child. It was only the riding, dance, and swimming lessons at boarding school that had forced her to maintain some level of physical fitness. Tap dancing, he might enjoy tap dancing, she suddenly thought and made a mental note to suggest it to Catherine. Ben had a good sense of rhythm and he'd probably do well in it.

She lifted her eyes from Ben and they settled on Harry, who was hiding away behind his grandson in the corner of the room as usual. He was watching her, and as their gazes met, she felt her heart beat faster. Even after almost four years of marriage, just looking at Harry never failed to excite her and their touch was still electric. It amazed her somewhat that this was still the case, but at the same time, she was grateful for it. He looked good, she thought absently. He was in better shape now, stronger and fitter as a result of getting more exercise with Pepper and Fiona. He looked healthier, and the lines on his face had softened and turned into lines of laughter rather than worry. He kept himself busy, volunteering a few times a week at the Soldiers' Charity, working with Malcolm on God only knew what, putting his years of experience to work by indirectly offering his advise on certain matters of national security to the Home Secretary through her, and of course, helping out at home by completely taking over the cooking, grocery shopping, and dropping off and picking up Fiona from nursery school. He was happy; they both were. They had a good life, a lovely cottage near the coast, a wonderful extended family, Fiona, and each other.

He smiled softly at her, almost as if he could read her thoughts, and she got up and moved over to him. "Hello," Ruth whispered. "Hiding away again, are you?"

"Mmmm," he hummed. "Something like that. You okay?"

"Fine," she smiled. Then noticing the concerned look he was giving her, she added quietly, "You know Jane's not nearly as bad as Elena was, or Ros when she wanted to be, for that matter. She could be a real Ice Queen."

Harry chuckled and reached his arms round her waist, pulling her against him. "I love you," he murmured against her neck and pressed his lips to the soft skin just bellow her ear.

"Mmmm," Ruth hummed. "I get the feeling you want something, Sir Harry."

"I do," he chuckled and pulled back to look at her. "But thankfully, I have it right here in my arms."

"But unfortunately for you, my love," she whispered as she traced his jaw with one finger. "You're going to have to wait until we get home, because this kind of thing is becoming a habit with you when Jane appears, and thought I'm flattered that I'm so much more appealing to you than she is, I'm sure that this is part of the problem. I rather think that, if you didn't have me, you'd be just as unpleasant toward Arthur as Jane is to me. Your temperaments are actually rather alike. It's not surprising that you drove each other up the wall really."

"Fine," he said as he released her, "but I'm not..." He tailed off as the sound of his youngest daughter's raised voice drifted into the kitchen and he sighed. "I'm too old for this shit," he muttered into his hands as he rubbed his face with them before letting them drop to his sides.

Ruth frowned at him and replied, "You're not. I'm sure our daughter would test anybody's patience on a day like this. She doesn't do well when her routine is broken, and you know it. I'll deal with this one."

She walked into the sitting room where Fiona was arguing loudly with Jamie, while a concerned Catherine was about to interfere, but seeing Ruth approach, she paused and let her mediate the argument instead. Ruth walked up to the pair of them and asked, "What seems to be the disagreement?"

"I don't want to be Tinkerbell," Fiona replied as she stamped her foot. "She doesn't do anything useful."

"Then you can be Wendy," Jamie replied.

"NO!" Fiona shouted. "Wendy's even worse. I want to be Peter Pan."

"But I'm Peter Pan," Jamie objected.

"You're _always_ Peter Pan," Fiona complained.

"But Peter Pan is a boy," Jamie explained slowly. "You're a girl; you can't be Peter Pan."

"I hate being a girl," Fiona said in disgust. "The girls always get the silly roles. I want to fight Captain Hook. Why can't I be a boy?"

"If I may interrupt?" Ruth asked quietly. The two children stopped speaking immediately. There was something about Ruth's quiet, respectful manner that always got their attention, and they knew that she never took sides but was always coming up with solutions that were logical and satisfied everyone.

"Yes, Granny," Jamie said.

"If this is a game and it's all pretend," Ruth began, "then Fiona can be whoever she chooses to be and you, Jamie, can also be whoever you choose to be. There can be two Peter Pans if you want. Perhaps you can pretend that Peter Pan went through a magic waterfall that made him double so that he could fight Captain Hook better."

"Yes!" Fiona said eagerly.

"Or," Ruth continued, "perhaps he has a long lost twin."

"That's a better idea," Jamie nodded, "because then we won't both be called Peter. That would be quite confusing."

"What about me? Can I play too?" Ben asked having finished his cake and come to find them. "I want to be Peter Pan too."

"We can't have three Peter Pans," Jamie objected.

"You can have anything you like," Ruth smiled. "Use your imaginations. You could make up new characters that are just as good as Peter Pan or even better, if you want to, and they don't all have to be boys either. Girls and women can be equally brave, smart, and strong."

"Really?" Jamie asked sceptically.

"Really," Ruth confirmed. "If you don't believe me, ask your Grandfather."

Jamie, Fiona, and Ben all turned to look at Harry, who smiled and said, "Absolutely. Some of the smartest, strongest, and bravest people I worked with were women."

"Like Mummy," Fiona said proudly.

"Like Mummy," Harry confirmed with a tender look at his wife.

"Look!" Jamie exclaimed, pointing at Graham who'd just entered the room with Jane. "There's Captain Hook! After him, Gang!"

"Arg!" Graham growled, slipping into the role given to him immediately. "It's that pesky boy and his bothersome friends again! Come here, you dirty rascals!"

The three children shrieked and ran out of the room and into the back garden with Graham at their heels. Charlotte immediately began toddling after them with Richard at her side, and the rest of the adults followed them out smiling.

"What a boisterous bunch they are," Jane said, "and Graham's almost as bad as the children."

"He's the one who ought to be Peter Pan," Ruth replied with a fond smile. "The boy who never grew up."

"He grew up faster than most, I'd say," Jane replied haughtily and turned away.

"She didn't mean it like that," Harry bristled, and despite Ruth laying a restraining hand on his arm, he added, "No, Ruth. This has to stop. It's been three years already and I'm not going to tolerate it any longer. If you want to turn up earlier than expected while we are still here, Jane, then you can jolly well be civil and polite to my wife. You're acting like a-"

"Harry!" Ruth interrupted. "That's enough."

"Like what?" Jane asked angrily as she turned back to face Harry.

"Jane," Arthur warned and stepped forward to restrain her while Ruth was still trying to get Harry to move away from Jane.

Seeing the what was going on, Catherine came quickly over to them and demanded, "What's the matter now?" as she stepped between her parents.

"Your father was just about to tell us what he thinks of me," Jane replied, "but I think we all have a pretty good idea of what he and I think of each other, so it's probably superfluous."

"You-" Harry began, but was interrupted again by Ruth.

"It was my fault," Ruth explained as she tugged roughly on Harry's wrist to silence him. "I said something that Jane misunderstood. I'm sorry, Jane."

Catherine sighed and shook her head before saying, "If there's one thing I'm one hundred percent sure of, it's that this is not your fault, Ruth." Then seeing Jane about to object and Harry smirk in satisfaction, she added angrily, "Look! I've had just about had enough of this sort of thing. It's bad enough to have to deal with Ben and Charlie fighting, without having to deal with you two as well. You're my parents and I love you both, but unless you can stop this ridiculous, immature behaviour, you will no longer be welcome here together. Either you solve this right now, or Mum you have to leave and come back at five, which is the time we'd arranged. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves." Then she glared at the pair of them before stalking off to the house.

There was an uncomfortable silence in her wake. Harry looked down at Ruth, and noticing that she was on the verge of tears, he immediately felt very guilty. He knew that she hated being the cause of arguments between Jane and himself, and especially between Jane and Catherine or Graham. He shouldn't have reacted to Jane's provocation. You're an idiot, Harry, he told himself and cursed his lack of self-control. "I'm sorry, Jane," he said eventually in an effort to make Ruth feel better. He needed to fix things even though he knew that Jane was in the wrong.

Jane stiffened slightly, but then she relaxed a little and smiled briefly before replying, "So am I. I overreacted." She glanced at Arthur who simply raised his eyebrows at her. She swallowed and then turned to Ruth, saying, "Ruth, I apologise. My reaction was uncalled for. I'm sure you meant well."

Ruth looked a little relieved and she nodded. "I only meant it in a good way. I enjoy watching Graham play with the children. He needs to relax a little. It's not easy being a single parent and he does such a good job at it. He's a wonderful young man. You did an excellent job raising him, Jane."

"Thank you," Jane smiled, and for once, there was real warmth in her eyes as she looked at Ruth. A brief silence followed before Jane admitted, "I worry about him. He needs someone and I'm not sure it's this Rose..."

"Neither am I," Harry replied. "He could do better than Rose. She's more like an additional burden than a partner, but he'll figure it out eventually. He'll find someone."

"Get off me, get off me, you pesky child," Graham's voice drifted across the garden toward them, making them all smile and turn to watch.

"Go, Charlie!" Jamie cheered, noticing that his little cousin had grabbed Graham round his thigh and was holding on tightly, giggling away as Graham began to hobble along with her attached to his leg. "Get him, Gang," Jamie yelled and launched himself at Graham.

Soon Graham ended up in a heap on the ground with all four children climbing on top on him and pinning him down. "Help, Sanderson, help!" he called, and immediately, a smiling Richard joined the game, pulling the children off Graham one by one and helping him get to his feet.

"Let's get 'em, Capt'n," he called and raced after the retreating group of children with Graham right behind him, a still giggling Charlotte on his back.

Harry stepped behind Ruth and wrapped his arms around her as she lent into him and they watched the scene before them. "Tempted to join in?" Ruth asked quietly.

"I am," he grinned, "but I think I'll leave it to the youngsters. I'll be the donkey a little later and give them all rides. Are you okay?"

"Yes," she smiled as she stroked his bare forearm and leant her head back against his shoulder. "We have to be two of the luckiest people alive, Harry," she added a few moments later.

"We are, Ruth," he smiled as he pressed a kiss to her hair. "We are."

* * *

_Translation of Greek  
_

At park: "Mummy, mummy," Fiona tugged on her hand. "Who is it? Is it Daddy?"

"Okay," Ruth answered him, "see you in a bit." Then she ended the call and turned to her daughter. "Yes. He's coming to meet us now," she replied.

...

"Mummy," Fiona interrupted, tugging on her mother's skirt. "I want to play."

"Just a minute, love," Ruth said as she turned to Fiona. "The gentleman is an old friend of Mummy's. Patience."

...

At Charlie's birthday party: "I know, love," Ruth said patiently as she crouched down beside her. "Everyone wants the first piece, but only one person can have it. Today is Charlotte's birthday, so she will get it."

"No!" Fiona exclaimed. "It's not fair. _I _want it."

...

She made her way to their side quietly and crouched down in front of Fiona. "Are you feeling better, love?" she asked.

Fiona nodded and reached for her, wrapping her arms round Ruth's neck and burying her face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mummy," she said.

"It's okay, Fiona," Ruth replied and hugged her tight. (literally: Nothing happened, Fiona)


End file.
